Flowers and What we Choose to Live With

When someone brings you flowers, which would you prefer?
A bouquet of cut flowers?
A live green plant you’d have to water?
A spring bulb that will blossom in a few days?
Or maybe one of those intricate modern faux silk flowers that look so real?

Personally, I love the fragrance of lilacs, and I also love something green and alive — something that could last for years if I take care of it, with just the right amount of water, sunlight, and maybe even if I talk to it.

Most of us probably wouldn’t choose artificial flowers or faux flowers as our first choice.
But my mother would.

Faux silk flowers are her first choice, hands down.

Real Flowers Die: My Mom's Unwavering Preference

If you ask her why she prefers artificial flowers or faux flowers, she doesn’t hesitate.

“Real flowers die.” She says simply, as if that explains everything.

And if you press her - if you point out that real, living flowers are more beautiful, even if fleeting - she always explains it the same way:

“They require much more work, much more devotion” she explains, as if this were the most obvious truth in the world.

“I don’t want to put so much devotion just to have something die in the end. All that care for something destined to wither.”

And she shook her head firmly, the way she does when she has already decided.

Uncharacteristically, her voice becomes emotional here.
She rarely allows emotion to surface so quickly.

But emotions about plants are safe, not as painful as emotions about people.
So she allows herself to feel when the subject is only about flowers.

Her explanation reveals more than a preference. It reveals the long shadow of loss.

Symbolism Behind Using Artificial Flowers

So, do you wonder why some people prefer artificial flowers when real ones might seem more beautiful?
For my mother, the choice is not about beauty. It’s safer to care for things that do not fade.
It’s about the refusal to invest love in something that will inevitably disappear.

Her life taught her to be careful about what she allows herself to love.

How the Past Keeps Blooming in the Present

Our past is always with us, haunting us, shaping us, blooming in unexpected ways.
For my mother, that past shows up in something as simple - and as symbolic - as a flower.