Status: Complete~
With These Flowers
Flowers
As a child, Philip would follow his brother, Patch, everywhere. Whether it was a trivial as going to the store to buy a few bars of candy or following him home when he got lost, Philip would trail behind him without a single qualm or question.
Even now when Philip was a grown young man, he couldn’t help but continue following his brother – especially when Patch began his trips to the cemetery.
Each time the two brothers would go there, Patch would always bring three flowers: a sunflower, a blue periwinkle, and a rue flower.
Their routine to the cemetery was always the same. Philip would stand to the side as silent support as his brother slowly placed the flowers onto the grave and kneel down beside it for several long moments. Philip considered it as Patch’s silent meditation so he never minded waiting. The person buried in the grave was very close to Patch after all. Philip was merely glad that he could offer his consolations in the only way he knew he could.
One day when they arrived at the gravesite, Philip couldn’t help but ask his brother one question, a question that has haunted his mind for quite some time. “Patch, why do you always bring those three flowers whenever we come here?”
His older brother considered his inquiry for a moment, pondering his response in his mind. The young man smiled, turning his attention to his curious sibling. “You’d like to know why I always bring these specific flowers? Well, the answer is very simple. These three flowers symbolize the time I spent with her when she was still alive.”
Seeing his younger sibling raise a brow, he raised a flower up, its yellow petals bright and luminous in the sunlight. “Sunflowers always face the sun. Like the sun, she had blinded me with her light, brightening the darkness in my life. Like the sunflower, all I wanted to do was face this light, follow its radiance wherever it may go.”
Tenderly placing the sunflower down onto the grave, the blue flower was next in his hand. “Blue periwinkles usually symbolize friendship. Just like this flower had blossomed from an insignificant bud, our relationship together bloomed into something extraordinary, growing into something I never expected.”
Finally, the last flower was in his hand, its white petals gleaming in the afternoon sun. The younger man gaped at such delicate beauty, then glancing over his brother’s face. Patch’s eyes glimmered, retaining a pensive, melancholy light as he said, “This here is rue.”
Philip couldn’t help, but mention, “You know, rue symbolizes regret. What do you feel guilt for, Patch? Do you regret your friendship with her?”
At the statement, Patch released a low, bitter laugh, making Philip almost ashamed for saying such a callous thing. Patch shook his head. “I will never regret our friendship, that hand that rescued me from my darkest hour. I only have one regret in all the years I have been friends with her – one I can never fix or change for as long as I still live.”
Philip blinked, struck again with unquenchable curiosity. “What is it?”
Then there was silence…
Patch glanced back to the flower and said quietly, “My only regret… is not telling her that I loved her when I had a chance.”
The weakness of human nature is giving up your most vulnerable feelings, waiting to tell your most cherished person how much you love them when they are no longer breathing.
So treasure every moment. Don’t be afraid to ever tell someone how much you care for them.
Even now when Philip was a grown young man, he couldn’t help but continue following his brother – especially when Patch began his trips to the cemetery.
Each time the two brothers would go there, Patch would always bring three flowers: a sunflower, a blue periwinkle, and a rue flower.
Their routine to the cemetery was always the same. Philip would stand to the side as silent support as his brother slowly placed the flowers onto the grave and kneel down beside it for several long moments. Philip considered it as Patch’s silent meditation so he never minded waiting. The person buried in the grave was very close to Patch after all. Philip was merely glad that he could offer his consolations in the only way he knew he could.
One day when they arrived at the gravesite, Philip couldn’t help but ask his brother one question, a question that has haunted his mind for quite some time. “Patch, why do you always bring those three flowers whenever we come here?”
His older brother considered his inquiry for a moment, pondering his response in his mind. The young man smiled, turning his attention to his curious sibling. “You’d like to know why I always bring these specific flowers? Well, the answer is very simple. These three flowers symbolize the time I spent with her when she was still alive.”
Seeing his younger sibling raise a brow, he raised a flower up, its yellow petals bright and luminous in the sunlight. “Sunflowers always face the sun. Like the sun, she had blinded me with her light, brightening the darkness in my life. Like the sunflower, all I wanted to do was face this light, follow its radiance wherever it may go.”
Tenderly placing the sunflower down onto the grave, the blue flower was next in his hand. “Blue periwinkles usually symbolize friendship. Just like this flower had blossomed from an insignificant bud, our relationship together bloomed into something extraordinary, growing into something I never expected.”
Finally, the last flower was in his hand, its white petals gleaming in the afternoon sun. The younger man gaped at such delicate beauty, then glancing over his brother’s face. Patch’s eyes glimmered, retaining a pensive, melancholy light as he said, “This here is rue.”
Philip couldn’t help, but mention, “You know, rue symbolizes regret. What do you feel guilt for, Patch? Do you regret your friendship with her?”
At the statement, Patch released a low, bitter laugh, making Philip almost ashamed for saying such a callous thing. Patch shook his head. “I will never regret our friendship, that hand that rescued me from my darkest hour. I only have one regret in all the years I have been friends with her – one I can never fix or change for as long as I still live.”
Philip blinked, struck again with unquenchable curiosity. “What is it?”
Then there was silence…
Patch glanced back to the flower and said quietly, “My only regret… is not telling her that I loved her when I had a chance.”
The weakness of human nature is giving up your most vulnerable feelings, waiting to tell your most cherished person how much you love them when they are no longer breathing.
So treasure every moment. Don’t be afraid to ever tell someone how much you care for them.