The child watched his father
as he moved around the
backyard watering his
garden as though his life
depended on it.
The child wanted so much
to just be taken care of,
nursed, and noticed as
much as the blooming
buds of the latest
purchase from Lowe’s Garden Center.
Yet, the child couldn’t
find the voice or the
courage to speak the
truth that sat deep in
his heart.
So, it crept on until the
father was much too old
to care for the garden;
on his deathbed, the son
sat near him too scared to
hold his father’s hand.
The father said,
“Tonight, I want to die
like the sunset; I must fall
out of a dream right into
the arms of the True Gardener.
I pray you’ll one day be there, too.
But make sure you bring your
shovel and soil so we can plant
together, son.
Until then…this is the key to my garden
shed, please, take care of my
garden. I made it for you, afterall.”
The son couldn’t reply,
the tears were clouding his vision
and his throat felt as though
he had tried to choke down a lemon.
“Father, I love you, you know?
I’m sorry that I haven’t told you in
a long time, and I always wanted
to help you with your garden but
I was so afraid you would say no…
Dad?”
An alarm went off in reply,
something or other about a code
red, the room filled up with strangers
in white coats, and there sat the
son gripping his father’s hand
realizing he had waited much too
long to say what he always wanted
to say.