“Sir, todays my mums birthday I want to buy flowers, but I havent got enough money” I bought the boy a bouquet. Later, when I visited the grave, I saw that very bouquet lying there.
Oliver wasnt even five when his world crumbled. His mother was gone. He stood in the corner of the room, dazedwhy was the house full of strangers? Why did they speak in hushed tones, avoiding his eyes?
No one smiled. They kept saying, “Be brave, lad,” hugging him as if hed lost something irreplaceable. But he hadnt lost anythinghe just couldnt see his mum.
His father drifted through the days, distant, never speaking, never holding him. Oliver crept to the coffin and stared. She wasnt how he rememberedno warmth, no lullabies, no laughter. Just cold, still, wrong. He couldnt bear to go closer.
After she was gone, everything turned grey. Empty. Two years later, his father remarried. Margaret wasnt unkind, just indifferent, annoyed by his presence, always finding fault. His father stayed silent, never stepping in.
Every day, Oliver carried the ache inside, missing her more, wishing he could go back.
Today was her birthday. He woke with one thought: he had to see her. Bring flowerswhite lilies, her favourite. He remembered them in old photos, bright in her hands.
But where to get the money? He asked his father.
“Dad, could I have a bit of cash? I really need it”
Before he could finish, Margaret snapped from the kitchen:
“Money? Again? Do you think it grows on trees?”
His father glanced up. “Maggie, let him speak. Whats it for, son?”
“Flowers. For Mum. White lilies. Its her birthday.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “Oh, lovely! Flowers! Pick some from the garden, thatll do.”
“They dont grow there,” Oliver said quietly. “Theyre only in the shop.”
His father sighed, then turned back to his paper. No money. No words.
Oliver slipped upstairs, dug out his old piggy bank. Counted the coins. Maybe enough?
He dashed to the florist, spotting the lilies in the windowgleaming, almost unreal. The shopkeeper eyed him with suspicion.
“What dyou want? This isnt a toy shop.”
“IId like to buy the lilies. How much?”
She named the price. His coins barely covered half.
“Please,” he begged. “Ill work! Sweep, clean, anythingjust let me have them today”
“Are you mad?” she scoffed. “Dyou think I run a charity? Clear off before I call the police!”
A man stepped in just then, frowning at the scene.
“Whats all this shouting? Hes just a boy.”
“And who asked you?” the woman snapped. “Hes causing trouble!”
The man turned to Oliver. “Whats wrong, mate?”
Oliver sniffled. “I wanted lilies for Mum. Shes gone. Todays her birthday.”
The mans face softened. He crouched down. “Your mumd be proud of you. Not many lads your age remember like this.”
To the shopkeeper, he said, “Pack two bouquets. One for him, one for me.”
Oliver left clutching the flowers, stunned it had worked. “Ill pay you back”
The man laughed. “No need. Todays special for me too. My Emily loved these.”
For a moment, his gaze drifted, lost in memory.
He and Emily had been neighbours. Met by chancesome louts bothering her, and hed stepped in, got a black eye, no regrets. That was the start.
Years passed. They were inseparable. When he turned eighteen, he was called up. The night before he left, they spent together for the first time.
Then, in training, an injury. Woke up remembering nothingnot even his name. Emily tried calling, but his parents lied, told her hed moved on. By the time his memory returned, it was too late.
He came back once, lilies in hand, only to see her with another man, pregnant. Heartbroken, he fled, started anew, but never forgot.
Eight years later, he returned, determined to find her. And then he met Oliver.
At the cemetery, he found Emilys graveand on it, fresh lilies.
“Oliver,” he whispered. “Youre ours. Mine and hers.”
He ran back, found the boy on the swings. A manEmilys husbandwatched from the doorway.
“Youre his father,” the man said quietly. “She always loved you. Told him about you. I never stood in the way.”
Oliver looked up. “I knew youd come.”
The manhis fatherswept him into his arms, weeping. “Im sorry I took so long. Ill never leave you again.”
