Gardenia (Hawaiian = Kiele)
It’s been almost twenty years since you’ve been gone, Mom, and not a moment of life’s milestones—my wedding, the births of my children—has passed without me missing you. Time moves on, but the ache of your absence remains.
Still, I find you everywhere these days. I see pieces of you in myself, in my children as they carry your mannerisms, and most vividly in the gardenias that bloom around my home.
Years ago I planted gardenias on purpose, a small living reminder to keep you near. Those glossy leaves and creamy flowers were meant to hold your presence for me.
When the blossoms open I think of you. The scent brings me back as if I were a child again, slipping into your arms and tucking gardenias into your hair. Their heady fragrance washes over me and for a moment time folds—then I am there with you.
A mother’s love endures in memory and in the quiet things that remind us of her. Gardenias carry that memory forward with every bloom.