If I Were a Flower...

I'd probably be a daffodil. Or a tulip. Because, let's face it, they're bright and sunny and the optimistics of the Flower Kingdom. Like, they're the ones that go "pick me! PICK MEEEE! Because I don't care if I DIEEEE I will see things and go places and do STUFF!" And they're the ones that open widest to the bees because they want more progeny.



ANYWAY. I make this point because in a week from today it's DAFFODIL DAY and I bought a bunch (of daffodils) in Coles today and they make my room bright(er) and shiny(er) and (more) cheerful.

(See?)
























I don't know - is Daffodil Day a worldwide thing, or just an Aussie thing? Not important. If you have a mother, father, sister, brother or best friend, there’s every chance your life will be touched by cancer. No matter who you are, Daffodil Day is for you.




















My grandfather - on my father's side, who recently passed - was diagnosed with cancer in 2005. I remember, because I was in year 10, and the way my father phrased it was "your grandfather's dying." We were out to dinner, and I promptly burst into tears. It was debilitating, but only physically (only is a relative term here); fortunately, he kept not only his sanity, but most importantly, his personality; his stubbornness, his incredibly generosity, his inappropriate sense of humour, his kind and jolly attitude. It was his second stroke that killed him in the end, but he lived longer than we dared hope.

I came across his obituary the other day, online. It's so beautiful and brings me such joy that he remembered so fondly. The article was a tribute and testimony to his good character, sound judgement, firm principles, and giving nature; the nicest thing a friend said about him was along the lines of "I never met someone who didn't like him."

My grandmother (his wife) is visiting us, and I'm going home next weekend to see her. I went with to pick her up from the airport, and when my father and grandmother started talking about him all the wonderful, funny, irreverent memories came back and it was so down heartening to remember I'll never see him again, but my comfort is in my memory. My grandmother in and of herself is an incredible, inspiring, amazing woman; I rang her about a month later, around my birthday (which was the day after his, but the same time in terms of time zones) to thank her for my gift, and she sounded so strong and upbeat I could hardly believe it. But that's probably where my innate optimism comes from.
























Buy a daffodil in the hope that future You will never have to know anyone touched by cancer.

x
JAG