My grandmother had her burial plot and engraved headstone over a decade before she passed. We used to joke about it. I remember one day she said to me, “You better bring me pansies.” Right there I made a promise to bring her pansies. She lived for a few more years and passed a couple of years ago. Last spring, the first spring since she passed I stopped at the garden store and bought pansies with the intent of planting them at the grave. Yeah, the pansies died on my counter three weeks later. I never planted them. I felt horrible. I could almost hear her saying “Veronica Lake! Where are my pansies!” She called me Veronica Lake since I was about 10. It was the whole hair in my face thing. Very My So Called Life. So while I was at the garden store a couple of weeks ago I bought another pack of pansies. They sat on the counter for two weeks. My husband even made the comment, “You going just let these die here or are you going to bring them?”

After a full day of yard work I grabbed the pansies from the counter, grabbed my shovel and some water, and asked the boys if they wanted to go see Great-Gram. No takers until I was on the way out the door and Finnegan insisted on going. He’s a little young to get the gist of it but he helped me plant the flowers and even gave Gram’s headstone a kiss. I wish he could remember them sharing a donut together.

So today Gram got her pansies and I cleared my conscience. XO