Flowers for Him, My Father

“Where Petals Remember”

An ode to the fleeting soul of flowers

and to the memory of my father, three years gone—forever with me in light, in breath, in bloom.

This series was born from grief and gentleness— a way of holding on to what fades,

and honoring what remains-

They bloom in silence,

like secrets the earth sighs into morning—

fragile, fleeting,

wreathed in mist and gold.

Petals breathe in soft haloes,

half-seen, half-felt,

as if the air itself remembers

what the soul forgets.

Each bloom a hymn,

a tender pause between

the hush of birth

and the hush of fading.

Their colors are lullabies,

their edges blurred by time,

yet sharp enough

to cut us with beauty—

a reminder that even wonder

can ache.

They are not just flowers—

they are memory made visible,

grace unfolding,

disappearing

before we can say stay.

And in their vanishing,

they whisper:

This moment.

This breath.

This light.

Hold it.

Cherish it.

Before it too becomes

just a petal

in the wind.

For my father. Gone, never forgotten.