Meet the Flood's

Isn’t it strange how we meet folks?

My Mother was always diligent about keeping flower arrangements on my Father’s headstone. She would make sure that Daddy’s grave site had Christmas flowers and Easter flowers.  Since Mother wintered in Florida, and my sister lived out-of-town, I was responsible for his birthday fresh bouquet in February, his green carnations for St. Patrick’s Day, and a purple arrangement for Lent. That would take us through the period from after Christmas right up to Easter, and Mother would take over from that point.

In March 2005, Easter was on March 27. The Saturday before Easter, Holy Saturday, Mother took me to the cemetery to see the arrangement she had placed on Daddy’s headstone. She was so happy with the outcome of the arrangement. She had worked directly with the florist to ensure that it was unique and had all the lovely spring colors that she and Daddy had always loved.  Little did she know, that she had picked out the flowers that would be part of her own headstone.  You see, Mother died very suddenly the Wednesday after Easter that year. She had placed those flowers on Daddy’s grave on March 24, and on April 1 she had been lovingly placed in her final “earthly” resting place. Note that I say “earthly” resting place. She and Daddy’s final resting place is in Heaven with our Lord.

After Mother’s death, I began visiting the cemetery daily or at least several times weekly. Within about the first 2 to 3 weeks, and after a quite fierce storm, I noted that the flower arrangement on the headstone was no longer in place. When I glanced around the immediate area, I saw an arrangement across the narrow road up against another tombstone.  I walked over to check it out, and I was almost 100% sure that it was my parent’s flower arrangement.  I picked it up and turned to take it back to my parents' grave. Then I had this terrible sensation that it might not be the one my Mother had so diligently picked out, and really did belong to the folks where it lay.  I looked at the name on that tombstone and the name was “Flood”.  It was a rather broad tombstone.  Not knowing the “right thing” to do, I said out loud, “Mother, I’m sorry if I am giving away your flowers, but I’m just not sure, so I will buy you and Daddy a new one.”  Then I placed the wayward floral arrangement atop the “Flood’s” tombstone.

It has been amazing to me that in the 7 years since that time, I have placed numerous arrangements on Mother and Daddy’s grave site. Some have lasted until they have faded and appear worn, and others have disappeared within a few days to weeks of being placed. But the “Flood’s” arrangement has never budged from that tombstone. 

I shared this story with a friend of mine, whose parents are buried in the same cemetery.   She, too, began to check out the “Flood’s” grave site. Together we would watch this same worn out arrangement placed atop their tombstone.  One Memorial Day, during the Mass held in the cemetery, the priest presiding remarked that he felt one of the saddest things was an unkempt grave. My friend, who was attending the Mass, immediately thought of the “Flood’s”.  So now, between the two of us, we have begun to maintain that grave site.

We have often wondered why no one ever came. Then we found the probable reason. We finally truly read their tombstone. There are 6 people buried at this site. Three on one side and three on the other side of the marker.  Their dates of death are, on one side 1937, 1910, 1939.  On the other side 1925, 1975, 1963.   I believe this little family may all be gone.  Five have last names of "Flood" and one just says "A Friend".  How special is that?

My friend and I will continue to place arrangements for the “Flood’s”.  We now feel a bond with them.  Maybe one day, we will all meet in Heaven.  It is indeed strange how we come to meet folks.