Orchids

It was nine years ago today that my father died, not long after I had returned to NJ to caregive for my aging parents.  He had extreme Alzheimer’s and heart failure, and didn’t even recognize us anymore.  He would become very agitated and delusional, but in the end he just faded out of existence.

Witnessing his dramatic decline, and then my mother’s own dementia and leukemia which lingers on still, I hope that in my case I won’t have to be maintained indefinitely (and expensively) long after my life ceases to have any quality or meaning.  It’s not the way I want to be remembered by those I care about.  Not to be all morbid, it’s just how I strongly feel.

I prefer to remember my father as someone who was a big proponent of literature, language, and education in all forms, who exposed us to many world cultures and opportunities, and who was part of the inspiration for my love of botanical pursuits.  In later years, he was so proud to docent at the New York Botanical Gardens, and take us on many pleasant tours.  I don’t have many fond personal memories of him and me, but to this day I think of him at 5PM (drink o’clock) each day, when we used to drink a scotch or gin and tonic together.

Here are my orchids doing their annual thing, in memory.

 

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