On Wednesday, the day of grandma's visitation, the florist made a huge delivery of flower arrangements and potted plants. Like we did in high school when we worked for dad at the funeral home, Erin and I started hauling flowers up from the back delivery door and brought them into the chapel. Dad came walking in with several vases of roses - one of which was a single yellow rose in a small bud vase. He set the rose on a stand close to the head of the casket, and then we walked around the chapel reading the cards attached to the plants talking about what good friends we had to send such beautiful arrangements. When we got back to where the yellow rose was, we couldn't find a name attached to the card. All it read was, "Dear Polly, Welcome Home."
We were stumped. No one had called grandma by her nickname of "Polly" since she was in college, so we started guessing about which of her classmates had sent the flower. It wasn't until halfway through the visitation that it hit one of my cousins.
Grandpa.
Grandpa's favorite flower was the yellow rose - his funeral back in 1989 was full of yellow roses. He called grandma "Polly" all the time. And he was in heaven, waiting for her to join him.
The rumor quickly spread throughout the funeral home, and we were all in tears. It was devastatingly wonderful to think that a little part of grandpa was there with us - a for-real message from beyond the grave. It showed us that he had been patiently waiting more than 19 years to be able to finally hold his wife in his arms once again and say, "Hey there sweetie. I've been waiting for you. Welcome home."
We all agreed that that was the story we were sticking to. Even if it wasn't true, we didn't want to know any different.
Dad, making funeral arrangements with another family today (poor guy, he doesn't even get to rest!), talked to the florist. The yellow rose was brought into the conversation. Dad told her that he didn't want to know.
"All I can tell you, Jim," she said, "is that the order for that flower was placed many, many years ago. I was sworn to secrecy, so all I can say is that the order slip has been on my desk for years."
Welcome home, grandma. Welcome home.
