My Sonflower

This summer, one singular volunteer sunflower began to grow in one of my front vegetable bins. I watched it get bigger and bigger until it reached about 4' tall. Finally, the yellow flower burst open this week which happened to coincide with the six-month anniversary of Ben's suicide. Was this flower, this bundle of sunshine, a sign from Ben?

Ben died on January 29, 2020. It was an awful grey, rainy and windy day. So windy, in fact, that the Department of Transportation closed part of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge half an hour after Ben hurtled himself over the railing. I've always imagined the law enforcement and search & rescue personnel swearing under their breaths about having to investigate a "jumper" on such a cold, miserable day--showing no empathy, no compassion for the young man who no longer found any meaning in his own life.

Poor despairing Ben, now frozen in the churning waters below.

For me, I regard the sunflower as the antithesis of that unimaginable day. It is all about sun, light, summer and happiness. After Ben died, I bought a vase painted with sunflowers in the same thrift shop where I had bought Ben a really nice cotton shirt the day before his suicide. With great love, purpose and symbolism, I filled it and two of his memorial candle holders with sunflowers for his birthday on May 1.

And, yesterday,in the same spirit, I placed sunflowers in a vase at the bottom of my Ben Tree. It was my mother's gesture to let Ben know that, regardless of how much time has passed, he is still loved, that I think of him every day, that I wish I could bring sun, light, summer and happiness into his world of darkness.

My poor son.

My poor Ben.

My sonflower.

I miss you terribly!