eulogy

[pete38890]

Jefferson Beaulieu arrived on Rue Chartres a couple of years ago with a sad smile and a profound silence.

He took the apartments next to ours and busied himself

with what was to become a formidable stand of bogainvillea,

overflowing their dozen pots and spilling over the balcony to threaten the sidewalk below.

Months passed, the bogainvillea became wilder,

but never a word passed across the rusted wrought iron trellis separating us until he offered the goddess,

ill from chemotherapy, an african violet. On that day,

he became family.

In weeks to come we learned the source of his passion. The waterfall of red was for Joicie.

His wife of 65 years loved flowers but "couldn't grow weeds." In all those years he'd never given her flowers;

to his shame he'd never seen the need.

Now gone these two years, Joicie has her flowers,

and with every new blossom Jefferson feels her near.

Jefferson was buried yesterday, quiet and alone in one of the city cemeteries. Before the remains of his life

were carted away I made off with most of the flowered pots,

some for Jefferson and Joicie and some to remind me not to forget....

[Jenny]

I really enjoyed this. It made me want to know more...who is the goddess? Who is narrating this?

Very good, Pete

[Aunt_Acid]

I meant to comment on this last night. It was really good. I also liked the fish one. Stay awhile, won't you?

[Earth-Angel]

That is one of the single best pieces of prose I have read on this site. It has moved me to tears.

[Foxy]

Same here Sue, very very moving pete.

Would love to read more of your work

[TrampledUnderFoot]

That was really good