A Bloom Worth Noticing

We were gifted this peace lily in 2020. Right after Papa passed.
One of those moments where words don’t work—but a living thing does.
And while that plant has sat quietly ever since, not once blooming…

It mattered.
It carried meaning.
It reminded me that some things grow even when it doesn't look like it.

Fast forward to March 14, 2025.
John’s 35th birthday.

I was doing my morning loop. Getting the kids to school. Pouring coffee.
And there it was.

A single, fresh, white bloom.
I gasped. Then I cried.
Not the kind of cry where you break down—
The kind where your breath catches because something inside of you knows.

It was Papa. I felt him. His peace. His warmth.
Like he was saying, “Hey, I’m here.”

And then later that day, Grandma passed.
She joined him. Just like that.

And suddenly, that one single bloom meant everything.
It wasn’t just a flower.
It was a presence.
It was a message.
It was a reminder of the quiet power in the everyday.

I always say: the magic of Yes, AND isn’t about toxic positivity or pretending everything’s fine.
It’s about noticing what’s true and honoring what’s possible.
It’s about pausing long enough to say—
“Yes, this moment is heavy… AND I am still growing.”
“Yes, I feel grief… AND I’m grounded in gratitude.”

This bloom reminded me:
We don’t need to chase meaning.
We just need to be present enough to receive it.

Even when the world feels loud.
Even when loss feels sharp.
Even when joy and heartbreak collide in the same 24 hours.

So today, I share this bloom with you.
As a little nudge.
A reminder to look for the beauty right in front of you.
To hold on to the things that matter.
To believe in the power of signs, symbols, and stories that keep our people with us.

Because growth isn’t always loud.
Sometimes, it blooms quietly.
Right when we need it most.