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;                My Flower Garden



                 By Lesa S. Kohlruss & Gena M. Smoot

I came in from watering my flowerbeds.  Another, hot steamy August night.
Nothing special, but the night and the flowers reminded me of how wonderful
those flowers were to me.

I'll never win "Yard of the Month", but if I did it would only diminish the
importance of all those flowers.  They aren't special flowers; just you're
every day garden-variety hodge-podge flowerbed.  Absolutely no planning went
into it.

But this is indeed a very extra-ordinary flower garden.  This is a garden of
love, given to me by a very special woman.  Four years ago I married Mark,
the youngest of four children, all happily married with families of their
own.  I too, had raised my family, and Mark, six years my junior, had never
been married.  I tried for years to persuade Mark to marry a nice
respectable girl and have children of his own.  He wouldn't listen.  My fear
was that his family wouldn't accept me.  A divorcee with two grown girls?  A
lot of baggage to bring into a marriage.

His mother asked him one day; "Do you love her?"
"Yes", was his answer.
"Then what are you waiting for?  Marry her."

The next year and a half I spent getting used to a new husband, becoming a
grandmother and having a new family of my own.  Mark's mother had emphysema,
and had for years.  Her condition was steadily getting worse.

We talked a lot during that time, growing ever closer.  She was a woman who
accepted me as I was.  Just me.

In January we got the call that Mark's mother was in the hospital.  I flew
up immediately.  We talked even more.  What she asked me to do was one of
the hardest things anyone has to do.  Have her Living Will placed in order.
Her mortality was very evident and the fact was I didn't want to let her go.
But if I had to, then her death would be on her terms.  One week later we
got the call that her time was at hand.  Flying to Michigan I prayed we
would not be too late.

When we got there I was surprised at how chipper she was.  Neighbors
visited, and the pastor and his wife came by.  One by one, Mark's brothers
and sister arrived.  As we got there she called us in to give us what she
wanted us to have.  The next day, despite snow waist deep, the sun was
shining brightly.  I opened the curtains in her room so she could see the
beautiful snow-scape, and I made a snow angel for her outside her bedroom
window.

That night her cousin arrived with a beautiful 50th anniversary cake and we
all celebrated, knowing that July 15th was too far away for her frail body
and spirit to hang on.  Late that night she slipped away.  I talked to her
before she left.  It was important to let her know what an important role
she played in my life.

That spring, every time my husband and I would leave the house I would stop
at every plant.

"Oh, look", I would exclaim, "how the hibiscus is blooming."  Or "Wow, look
at those bougainvilleas.  Have you ever seen them get so large?"

With obvious irritation he would prod me towards the car.

One day as I stood at our door admiring the passionflowers and amaryllis, he
asked why I was so fascinated.

It was very simple.  "Don't you remember how much you mom loved flowers?"  I
asked.  "But for so long she was unable to get outside even to go to the
store.  Every time I see a flower bloom or a plant grow I know it's your
mother visiting us.  I miss her so much; this is her way of telling me it's
O.K.  She's here with us."

In July my grandmother took ill.  "It's O.K."  I told her, "You will always
be with me.  Any time you want to let me know you're there, I have a
passionflower plant.  Just make it bloom.  I'll know."

As I finished watering the plants I turned the passion vine around so the
back could get sun and there they were... six beautiful flowers, just for
me.  "Hi, grandmother, I love you too."  On the way back into the house I
had to stop again and admire my quagmire of plants, all blooming heartily.
I sure miss our talks, but I have them both with me always.

Love is like that, you know.
The story you just read was written by my mother, Lesa Kohlruss.  My
step-father, Mark found this on her computer a couple of months after she
passed away.  It has been 4 years since my mother left.  I still miss her
everyday, but I have this story mounted on my patio wall to remind me that
she is with me always. 

The last day of June in 2000, I received the call that my mother had passed.
It was the hardest day of my life.  I had so many unspoken feelings that I
never got to share with her.  I had so many unanswered questions to ask
about her life, her views and her hopes and dreams.  Those are things that I
will never have the chance to ask, answers I will never know. 

I was sitting in her back yard that day.  I just sat there and looked around
the yard at all of her projects that she had going.  Right in the middle of
her back patio stands a very large potted tree.  She had to get a rolling
stand for it so that we could move it into the garage when we had a frost.
I remember week after week while growing up having to water that darn plant.
I couldn't just turn the hose on full blast until it flooded to the top and
leave it - she always insisted that I barely run the water and allow the
tree to 'drink' slowly.

We never knew exactly what kind of tree it was.  My mother always took the
seeds from our lemons, limes, oranges and apples and tossed them into her
big empty pot of old soil.  One day, a tree began to grow.  She insisted one
day we would have an apple tree, or we would grow our own oranges.  My
sister and I thought she was a bit of a loon most of the time, so this made
par for the course.

That day, sitting in the back yard, I looked at that tree for a very long
time.  Thinking about all the crazy things my mother would do, we always
were so irritated and never cherished those moments.  After awhile, I looked
up in the branches and there they were, three little green fruit.  I had no
idea what they were.  I took special notice that there were three.  One for
Mark, one for my sister, and one for me!

I ran and told Mark and my sister about them.  I just knew that she was very
excited to see us all together and very sad that she couldn't say, "I told
you it would grow!"  But most of all, I knew that it was her way of letting
me know that she was still very much a part of our lives.
For months, I would go to the house and sit in her front garden and just
talk to her.  I would tell her all the crazy things I was going through.  I
would drive all the way to her house and as soon as I got to the garden, I
could just sit and cry and feel her warmth all around me.  I knew she was
there, still taking care of those beautiful flowers, still watching over all
of us that she left behind.

That Christmas, Mark called me and my sister and asked us to join him at my
mother's favorite hole-in-the-wall Mexican Food restaurant for a Christmas
dinner just for us.  We dreaded all getting together for Christmas without
Mom, but my sister and I knew that we needed to be strong for Mark.  When we
arrived, Mark was already at the table.  After we exchanged our hugs, and a
few tears were shed, Mark presented us with our gifts.  One small box for
each of us, a copy of the story you read above, and one ripe tangerine.  In
the box was a Tiffany heart necklace that matched the one my mother always
wore.  I wear it everyday.  That tangerine was the sweetest fruit I have
ever had.  I savored each bite.  I saved the seeds and presented them to
each of her closest friends that Christmas.  But the story My Flower Garden
that Mark found on her computer was the most precious gift of all.

Everyone tells me that you cannot grow a Tangerine Plant by just planting a
seed.  You have to Graft another citrus plant to make it grow.  Each time I
hear that,  I laugh inside.  You can with enough love, patience and faith. 

I met a wonderful man recently.  The first thing I wanted to do was to
introduce him to my step-father, my sister and my mom.  I took him to visit
my mother's house and to see the famous garden.  I was absolutely amazed at
how much the plants had grown.  The size of her flowers are amazing.  But
most impressive was the citrus tree.  There are more than 30 tangerines
growing now!

In my office on the wall is another brief poem she wrote.  I think it best
sums up her message in the story above.

"Our time together has been so short in many ways, yet in others has spanned
a lifetime.  My only hope is that I'll always make you smile.  Now, and in
the future.  With me, or away.  My warmth will follow you always... in this
life and into the next.  I love you now and always."