One day, I was trying to figure out where to seat his difficult uncle.
The next, I was identifying Adrian’s personal belongings.
The accident had been so severe that his funeral required a closed casket.
I remember standing next to his mother, Colleen, during the service, holding tightly to her hand as Adrian was lowered into the earth.
She squeezed my fingers with enough force to hurt.
Neither of us spoke very much.
There was nothing meaningful left to say.
Afterward, people kept quietly approaching me.
They hugged me, assured me that Adrian had loved me, and told me that eventually time would make the pain easier.
I nodded because I had no idea what else I was supposed to do.
I believed that had been the worst day of my entire life.
Three months later, I discovered I was wrong.
I work as a florist.
Before Adrian’s death, weddings had always been the jobs I enjoyed most.
I loved arriving before any of the guests, when the venues still looked incomplete. I loved watching empty spaces slowly transform into celebrations.
Flowers could completely change a room.
The right centerpiece could make an ordinary table romantic.
Greenery and candlelight could turn a cold ballroom into somewhere warm. A nervous bride could visibly relax the moment someone placed her bouquet into her hands.
After Adrian died, I couldn’t even see a bridal bouquet without thinking about the one I had selected for myself.
I stopped taking wedding jobs.
For several weeks, I worked on birthdays, corporate functions, and sympathy arrangements instead.
Anything except weddings.
Even hearing somebody use the word “fiancé” was enough to make my stomach clench.
Eventually, though, there were bills that needed paying.
Grief didn’t make the rent disappear.
It didn’t cover my suppliers or keep the flower shop operating.
So three months after Adrian’s funeral, I finally agreed to accept wedding work again.
I convinced myself that returning to work might actually help.
That morning, another florist I occasionally collaborated with called to tell me she was sick and asked whether I could cover a wedding for her.
She sounded terrible.
