Flowers for Chester

Chester Floyd Merrifield died on January 11, 2006. He had been ill the summer before with sinus infections; one right after the other. He was given ten rounds of antibiotics. The week before Thanksgiving 2005, Chester went to the dentist because his teeth were beginning to fall out! He was only forty-eight, so this was not a normal occurrence. His dentist sent him to an oncologist.

Chester was told at the oncologist that he had metastasized cancer of the sinuses (paranasal cancer). The cancer had spread to his brain and jaw and the treatment options were slim to none. He was given a short time frame to live and told to get his affairs in order. What does that mean? It must be astounding to hear that. “Get your affairs in order.” It makes no sense.

The day before he died, he went from room to room in his house and just looked at all his beautiful things. This was a real Chester thing to do as he was an artist. Not an “arteest” a real artist who drew on paper, painted on canvas, wood, and furniture. He was also a florist who made the biggest, most outrageously gorgeous flower arrangements in the Universe.

I think about Chester every day, but especially in spring. He loved forsythia, but for some reason he always called it “for-Cynthia.” I never did ask him why. My forsythia bushes are bright yellow right now. Their long tendrils are spilling over with a yellow so bright that it makes you blink. Chester would have loved these forsythia bushes. They were just babies when Chester died. They have grown and blossomed into big robust bushes that hang over my fence like an old friend draped over a couch.

At Chester’s funeral there was an incredible array of flowers. Some of his friends knew who he was. They sent arrangements that were worthy of the Queen’s foyer. Yet, there were some who clearly did not know or understand Chester. Flower arrangements with icky little displays, some with carnations even! In my stunning grief I found it difficult not to constantly cry. I am not a crier, however, this was one day when I just could not stop, no matter what anyone said. As I made the rounds of the myriad flower arrangements I came upon the saddest little basket filled with some sort of murky houseplant and a few carnations stuck around it. At the same time there was a velvet-like rose in the center of the arrangement. Through my tears I began to laugh. Then, I pointed to the basket and began to sob loudly. “If Chester wasn’t already dead, this basket would have killed him,”. The thing was, it was probably true!

We Didn't Light the Fire

How Does This Thing Work

Have you ever wondered how people who have had unfair negative life events can go on with their lives? I often do. It is difficult to imagine being handed a life like those of some Haitians, then, on top of poverty, hunger, disease, lack of education, and abuse, you get an earthquake piled on top of you. How does that work for people? Do they run back to church and pray that God doesn’t hurt them further? On the other hand, is it God that has anything to do with such things?

My brother died in 2004, my best friend in 2006, and my father in 2009. These are pretty life altering events. However, I did not lose everything. I did not need to lie down and die, myself. I grieved, and still do. Sadness pervades some moments in my life, but overall, I am a happy person and glad to be alive.

I have put myself in the place of people in Haiti, or people with terminal diseases who have had other unfair major life events occur. How do they go on living? Would you not want to just lie down and let the earth swallow you up?
Whom do you blame? Whom do you forgive? It seems as if we all have to have a finger to point; it makes us feel better…then, of course, there is the matter of forgiveness. I forgive you, God. I forgive you, Who? What is there to forgive when a life altering disaster is caused by natural forces? How can anyone forgive that? So, if there is a God, why are the Haitians suffering so much and my fat ass is sitting in a new car eating cake and drinking Starbucks?
Am I ready to give up the Starbucks and everything else that I consider a luxury in my life? No, not really. Though I wonder why it is that some of us have so much, and some have nothing. Couldn’t there be something in-between?

Those are all questions I have no way of answering. I admit I have faith, and I believe in God most of the time. I would just love to know how this thing works, this life of ours…what are the forces that drive our fates? If you find out, let me know.

My grandmother stood on the tarmac. I could see her little white hankerchief waving in the breeze. She had on a pair of those black tie up old lady shoes, the ones you see in movies. Her dress was sheer cotton with pearl buttons up the front. I could see her crying and waving. My grandfather was behind the metal fences. His pained look was visible just behind my grandmother's right shoulder. They would only let one person into the loading area, so my grandmother was the one who walked us to the plane.

I had no way to know that I would never see either one of them again. In my childish excitement, I only cared about the plane and all that went with it. I had flown before, but I could not remember it. This was for me, a great adventure. My sister on the other hand, had already begun getting sick, the beginning of a childhood penchant for motion sickness.

I wish I could have known that it would be the last time I would see my grandparents. I wish there was something I could have done or said that would have made a difference. I don't know what happened to them. I've heard stories, none of them pleasant. Perhaps they paid dearly for getting my sister and I out of the country. I'll never know.