Our living room had big windows facing the porch and front yard. Sunlight filled the room creating the perfect conditions for growing African Violets. Mom had a table right in front of the window loaded down with six to eight pots filled with them. They varied in color from dark purple to bright white. Some had pink and white stripes and others were tinged with various shades of lavender. I loved looking at the flowers and Mom loved taking care of them.

Other houseplants dotted our home but the violets were the stars of the show.

At some point however, Mom discovered cactus. Not the spiky kind that hurt when you touch them but the kind with beautiful flowers. She began growing Thanksgiving Cactus, Christmas Cactus, and some other kind with a huge bloom. They were almost as pretty as the violets I loved so much.

We moved to Georgia after I graduated high school. Mom and Dad built their retirement dream home on eight acres in the Smoky Mountains. The violets didn’t make the cut for the move but all the cacti did. Somehow we managed to move several pots all the way from Texas to Georgia without any casualties. She did buy a few violets once we arrived in Georgia but they took second place to the cacti.

The cacti thrived in the room we called “the breezeway,” a hallway of sorts connecting the main part of the house to the garage. This room had windows lining both sides and it was the paramount location for growing plants. Mom took care of those cacti plants for years and they continued to grow…and grow…and grow.

She grew other flowers as well. She was widely known for the dahlias she grew in her garden, from little button flowers to those the size of dinner plates, all in every color imaginable. Every year in the fall, she would dig up the bulbs after the first frost and store them for the winter. The next spring she prepared the garden soil and planted the bulbs, including any new ones she found irresistible at the store or those that friends or family gave her. She carefully staked the bushes that grew too tall or heavy with blooms to stand up on their own. She watered and fertilized the plants and was rewarded with gorgeous flowers. Summer at my parents’ house was always a spectacle because of her incredibly beautiful flowers.

My mom passed away on May 3rd, 2004, unexpectedly and without any warning. One minute she was here and the next she was in heaven celebrating with Jesus and my daddy. Such a blessing for her but so tragic for my brother and me. After she was gone, the dahlias ceased to grow. No more violets, no more dahlias and no more mom. I was pretty sure the world would end too.

But… the cacti! Those giant, beautiful cacti continued to grow.

This last May, my husband and I returned to Georgia where my brother still lives. The cacti are still in the breezeway where they have thrived for over 35 years! Some of them are more than three feet in diameter. My brother gave me cuttings from each of the plants and I carefully transported them back to Alaska.

I planted them in pots and researched how to take care of them. I watered them and tried to give them the right amount of light.

Their new home is a garden window in my bedroom. And every day I look at them.

Last week I discovered the most beautiful and unexpected sight. One of them had a gorgeous bloom. I thought they were too young and small to bloom, but one had other ideas. I saw that bloom and I saw my mom. I saw her hands that so carefully tended her beloved plants and me. I saw her love, her hard work, her dedication. I saw years and years of sacrifice, pain and heartache but also rich rewards. I saw life, not death.

I am so thankful for that one little bitty bloom…that means the entire world to me. I’m so thankful for my mom.

I think maybe I’ll try my hand at dahlias next summer.

I love and miss you, Mom.