
I read somewhere a single, white, rose represents spiritual sincerity and a message of missing someone. For today's post, we spotlight the importance of that gesture.
A year ago, on Juneteenth. Myself and Marisol spent the day outside, in the yard, as a family, with the kids. We had previously purchased a play-set for them and decided to take the day to put it together. Everything we needed and wanted to do on that day was completed in the backyard and if it needed to be done and couldn't be done in the backyard, it wasn't happening. A family friend came over, helped, had lunch in the backyard with us, left, and came back - we were still at work. Hours had passed. We were, literally, at assembly all day. Frustrations. Laughs. Feelings of defeat. Feelings of triumph; we weren't going to be out done by a play-set! No way! We had to keep going.
We got the kids to bed. Darkness fell. We played music. Phones had died and were dying. Wine entered somewhere. We started a fire to keep the bugs away. We were working in the dark without a care in the world. Well, kind of, we knew we would need to go to bed soon to be able to function for work the next day but it didn't completely matter in those moments, we were doing it for the kids.
Suddenly, around midnight, my watch was ringing. It was my cousin. It was unusual for him to call especially at that hour. I didn't want to answer; we were having a good time. Marisol said, I should because "... you never know."
I did.
He sounded much like himself but there was something different. He wanted to know if I was home and since he doesn't live in the state, it was odd. He wanted to know if Marisol was around. I began to get concerned; "... what happened?" He delivered the news and my world crashed. I was standing in my backyard with my wrist up, paralyzed, waiting for him to say something else. Waiting for him to say anything else. Waiting for him to say they were waiting for other news. We got off the phone. Another call. Then another call. The news was making its way through the family. Meryl had passed. I was still waiting for her to call me back about the possibility of meeting up in TN. She was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. That play-set had won and I was throwing in the towel of defeat.
In the months that followed, while cutting the grass (and still today), I would stop and stare at the structure, reminded of that day. That moment. That call. Reminded of the unfinished business of waiting to see her again and the play-set. I wouldn't return to complete the play-set for months; others offered and, often, stopped by to push it closer to completion but never finalized. Juneteenth, a year later, it's mostly completed. At least enough to get some play time in over the course of summer.
Time passed. Grief hadn't/hasn't. In that, a decision was made to embark on a journey bigger than ourselves. Cheers to the birth of Meryl's Safe Haven and to the celebration of Meryl's life.
Today, on Juneteenth, we lay a single, white, rose.
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