A tear slipped down Debbie’s cheek. “That sounds like something he would say. That old charmer always had a way with words.”
That night, as moonlight filtered through the window and cast silver light across her orchids, Debbie slipped away peacefully in her sleep.
Cody was there, holding her hand, his tears falling on the wedding ring she had finally worn after their date.
The room seemed to hold its breath as the monitors fell silent, and for a moment, Cody could have sworn he heard the distant notes of a saxophone. Though his heart felt like it might shatter, he found himself smiling through his tears as he played “What a Wonderful World” softly from his phone.
He sat with her until dawn, telling her all the stories she had told him, returning them to her one last time.
The memorial service was held in the botanical gardens, surrounded by the orchid exhibition Debbie loved so dearly. Cody arranged for each guest to receive a small orchid seedling, propagated from Debbie’s collection.
“My grandmother believed that growing orchids taught you everything you needed to know about love,” he told the gathered mourners, his voice steady despite his grief.
“She said they teach you patience, because true beauty can’t be rushed. They teach you attentiveness, because you have to learn to notice the subtle signs of what they need. And they teach you faith, because sometimes, even when they look dormant, they’re gathering strength for something magnificent.”
He paused, looking at the sea of faces.
“Most importantly, she said they teach you that the most precious things in life are often the most delicate… but with the right care, they can bloom again and again, bringing joy long after you might have given up hope.”
Months passed, and grief settled into a different kind of presence in Cody’s life. He found himself speaking to Debbie as he tended her orchids, which now filled a special greenhouse he built in his backyard. Each bloom felt like a small miracle and a conversation continuing beyond words.
On what would have been Debbie and Joe’s 60th anniversary, Cody returned to the town square.
The old fountain still sang its gentle song, water cascading down its tiers just as it had when his grandfather had knelt before a young Debbie all those years ago.
He sat on the edge of the fountain, the stone cool beneath him despite the warm evening. From his pocket, he pulled a small envelope. Inside were dried orchid petals and seeds from Debbie’s favorite orchid — the rare purple variety that had outlived all her others.
“I thought you might want to plant these together,” he whispered to the empty square, imagining his grandparents were there with him.
“Start a new garden, wherever you are now.”
He scattered the tiny flowers and seeds into the fountain, watching as they caught the light before disappearing beneath the rippling surface. As the last petal fell from his fingers, a breeze lifted through the square, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of orchids… though none were blooming nearby.
Years passed, and when Cody finally met the woman who would become his wife, their first date wasn’t dinner or a movie. It was an afternoon in his greenhouse, where he taught her how to repot an orchid seedling, just as his grandmother once taught him.
They married in the town square, beside that same fountain.
His bride carried a bouquet of orchids propagated from Debbie’s collection, the same varieties Joe had given Debbie all those years ago. His boutonnière featured a single purple bloom, a descendant of the very orchid that had been in Debbie’s wedding bouquet.
Their first dance was to “What a Wonderful World,” and as they swayed beneath the stars, Cody felt a familiar presence… as if, just for a moment, his grandparents were dancing beside them.
Cody still visited the town square fountain every spring. Sometimes, in the quiet of early morning or the golden light of dusk, he would hear the echo of a saxophone playing an old love song.
He would see the shadow of two figures dancing, and feel the phantom touch of a hand on his shoulder.
For love, as Cody learned, never truly ends. It lives on in the delicate petals of orchids, in the gentle notes of an old love song, in the quiet splash of fountain water, and in the golden circle of memories.
Source: amomama
