I took this picture the end of summer last year. It was all alone – the last of its kind – blooming at the Denver Botanic Gardens. It made me sad to see it so beautiful and so alone, mostly because this bloom and I have much in common.
While the rest of the Gardens was full of flowers blooming together in riotous color and abundance, this bloom was all alone, much like I have been most of my life.
I was a lonely child growing up.
I’ve had a long, lonely marriage.
And with age has come the intense loneliness and “grieving” for the babies who never came and the grandchildren who will never be.
Those supposedly much wiser than I have said that you can’t miss what you’ve never had. They’re wrong.