The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(41)

Caleb: I’ll pick Seda up at noon if that’s okay.

I type back a reply.

Me: That’s fine.

I open Thayer’s message next.

Thayer: I thought I could pick you two up for breakfast and visit Forrest’s grave. You mentioned last night that she wanted to go by. If it’s a bad idea it’s fine.

Stifling a yawn, I look over my shoulder at her sleeping form.

Me: That’s a great idea. I just woke up. I have to get Sleeping Beauty up too.

Thayer: Take your time.

Me: Caleb is going to pick her up around 12.

His reply takes a little longer this time.

Thayer: Okay.

Setting my phone back down, I ease from the bed and go to the bathroom. I pee and brush my teeth, then quietly go downstairs to check on my mom. After I’ve helped her into the bathroom and dressed for the day, I go back up and wake up Seda.

“I want to sleep,” she grumbles, holding on tighter to the pillow.

“We’re going to go get breakfast and visit your brother’s grave.”

Her eyes pop open at that. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to go. Is that still true?”

She nods soberly. “I’m going to shower, so don’t fall back asleep,” I warn, tapping her nose.

She giggles, wiggling around. “I won’t.”

“Get dressed and go talk to grandma if you want.”

“Okay!” She grins, kicking off the covers. She runs from my room to Georgia’s where her overnight bag is.

Taking a quick shower, I hop out and wrap myself in a towel. I apply a bit of mascara to my lashes and gloss on my lips. I don’t have time for anything else since I need to get dressed and check on Seda and my mom.

Pulling on shorts and a red tank top, I slip my feet into a pair of white sneakers. My hair is wet from my shower, so I decide to leave it down to air dry until we leave. Then I’ll pull it back into a bun.

Downstairs I find Seda sitting beside my mom’s hospital bed. They’re both coloring and talking quietly. I can’t help myself when I take my phone out and snap a photo to catch the sweet moment.

“Mommy!” Seda cries when she sees me. “Are we ready to go? I’m hungry. I want pancakes with chocolate chips and syrup and—”

I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Take a breath, girl.”

She pauses, inhaling a deep breath. “Grandma, are you going with us?”

My mom shakes her head. “No, sweetie. Not this time.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. But it’s okay, I’ll bring you back something.”

My mom pats her hand gently. “You do that, sweetie.”

“Can we keep coloring when I get back?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“Your dad is picking you up at noon to go back to Boston,” I tell her, padding into the kitchen. I open a yogurt for my mom, setting her pills in a bowl. It’s mostly pain pills at this point, just trying to keep her feeling the best she can.

“Aw, man. I like it here,” she says when I come back into the room.

“You’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

My mom takes the pills with the yogurt, and I silently encourage her to eat the rest of it.

I can tell she doesn’t want to, but she obliges.

When the yogurt cup is empty, I throw it away and send a text to Thayer that we’re ready.

“We’ll be back soon, Mom. Behave yourself. Georgia will be here in about fifteen minutes.”

She sighs. “You two don’t trust me by myself, do you?”

I laugh, kissing the top of her head. “No, we don’t.”

She studies the page she was coloring. “Have a good breakfast.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.”

Seda wraps her arms as best as she can around her grandma. “Love you, grandma!”

“I love you, peanut.” My mom kisses her cheek.

Taking Seda’s hand, we step outside onto the front porch. I lock the door since Georgia will come in from the side.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, baby?” I drop my keys in my purse.

“Why does grandma have to die? Why did my brother have to die?”

Having this conversation with a five-year-old is hard. I don’t want to lie to her, but I have to explain it in a way she’ll understand.

Crouching down, I grasp her arms gently in my hands. “Life is beautiful.” I brush her hair back from her forehead. “It’s running through fields of flowers, catching butterflies in the summer and snowflakes on your tongue in the winter. Death is just another part of life. It’s inevitable for each of us. The great equalizer.” She listens intently, taking in every word I say. “Death doesn’t have to be seen as this scary thing. It’s a beautiful reminder that each of our breaths, each heartbeat,” I point to her chest, and she places her hand over her thrumming heart, “is a gift to cherish.”

She stands before me, and I know she’s thinking over what I said. “So, I should be happy for grandma?”

“You should be understanding—death is scary, especially for the people left behind. We feel the sadness and pain of loss.”

“And grandma?”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to die, but she won’t be in pain anymore.”