The First Lesson of Marigold

Marigold flower, at first glance does not leave any impression. A dark orange flower, yet the truth behind it unfolds slowly. A vibrant color that gives off a formally mystic sense with an inevitable despair, at least to me.

The conversation initiated in a dark, cold rented room in the basement 8660 miles away from my hometown.

“Mom, how is uncle Hong? Can you connect me to him?”

“Sure, but wait, I just showed him how to use the online platform to communicate the other day. I will ask him to give you a call now.”

“Thank you, mom. Talk to you later.”

My mom hung up and 3 minutes later, my phone rang. My hand was sweaty as I was filled with joy and anxiety at the same time. I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to my uncle for a while.

“Hi! How are you? How is your study? I have been missing you lots, when are you coming home?”

“Hi uncle, I am fine, I am not sure but hopefully soon. How are you? How is everything?”

“Everything is good, I just helped the church to fundraise 2 days ago. I went to the market and asked the customers for their support and it went well! Study hard and come back home soon so we can hang out again. By the way, I have been worried, I feel something in my lungs when I lay down at night.”

“Really? How long have you experienced it? You have to go to the hospital now.”

“Since the clinic is not too far, I think I should. Talk to you later, study hard and book a flight home soon, ok?”

“Please go now. Talk to you soon and I hope to see you again as well uncle.”

The conversation ended. I could sense a chill run down my spine. I held my phone against my chest hoping that everything would be fine but darkness surrounded me.

Flashback to 12 years ago, when I easily found the feeling of the wind blowing through my hair. The atmosphere was pleasant, the smell of early morning air mixed with the humidity of the foggy night still hanging on the leaves. However, the moment disrupted not too long thereafter.

“It is impossible to sit like this, just too tight. Can you move back a little bit more?”

My 6-year-old younger sister was angrily giving me command, but it was understandable as we were sitting at the one-person back seat of the bike.

“Guys, stop fighting. Look, that garden has such vibrant orange color flowers. Let’s stop by and take a look. Do you guys know the name of this flower?”

Remembering names is a pain for me, but luckily the situation was resolved by my younger sister.

“Marigold flower, I knew it long ago.”- said miss know-it-all.

In our neighborhood, families set the side roads lively by growing and selling plants and flowers in their front yards. In our culture we tend to decorate the house with flowers based on their meaning and marigold is used to express grief.

My uncle only finished third grade but has always been a role model in my life. He has taught me to appreciate the all the little things, from the beauty of nature to all unexpected sad and happy moments. He has given me countless lessons of kindness mainly through his actions. The younger me sometimes questioned his generosity but then just naturally absorbed them. He would follow after a stranger on the street to remind him that he forgot his motorbike brake. He would spend his lunch time hanging out with a motorbike taxi man who is mute just because he found that the man seemed lonely. Other times, he would buy the lottery tickets sold by the elders so they could finish early and rest for the day.

My uncle lived 30 km away so we only had opportunities to meet on days off from school or summer time. I was cheerful and enjoyed every moments with him. He would force us to go to the church on Sundays. When it was summer time, marigold flowers baskets were arranged neatly on each stair steps leading to the mass expressing a formal atmosphere. While attending the mass, he knew most of the songs and prayers we didn’t know. All we could do was to stand by shyly with blank stares at the floor. He would take my sister and I to the supermarket which is 15 km away either by the motorbike or bus. Where he would let us roam freely in the bookstore for hours to read books and comics while he was sitting by the bench waiting patiently. I could say that he enjoyed watching our carefree characters sitting at the corner of the bookstores to read and giggle then running to him to show something funny. He would force us to have lunch, and KFC was the fancy thing to enjoy in my hometown back then. Opened his wallet slightly, then he would ask us to choose whatever we liked.

“What about you? What do you like?”- I asked him worriedly as I noticed we were standing in line for a while already.

“I am ok, I have never tried Western food so I may not be used to it. I will find something else to eat later.”

I know that he is selfless person and I have never questioned that.

Life went on and a few years later, when my sister was 10 and I was 13. He found the love of his life. They rented a small place to live while both were working at a factory. All of us enjoyed our time in their rented place, my sister and I slept, ate and hung out there all the time for 2 summers. In the third summer, they finally announced to split up. The summer that was taken for granted that may be ours again. He is still the same person but seemed to ponder more. Finally, he opened up to me vulnerably when he was riding me down the familiar street on his motorbike. He was aware of his education and socioeconomic status. Just like everybody else, he wanted to be a father. However, he told me it may be hard for him just because of his situation.

Sitting at the back, I was stunned after listening to his confession. Not a single moment before did he ever express to any of us his authentic thoughts and feelings. My impression of him, for most of my life is that he is just a caring and joyful person. My whole perspective changed. I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment ever since. I darted my eyes to hold back my feelings. The sun was like a red ball at the skyline, passionate but still has no choice but to follow the order of mother nature. It is time for the night sky to come.

Back to the present, the intense present that I was forced to be in. All I could do was praying. Around an hour later, my mom gave me a call to tell me that he was hospitalized. He passed away in the next early morning without a goodbye. The memories with him flooding to my mind, I cried myself to sleep for days. On a rainy day, I decided to take a walk to the park to hopefully able to clear my mind a bit. Even if I cried, others could think that those are just raindrops falling down my cheeks. My mind wasn’t able to stop thinking about everything, that he is the most amazing person that I have ever known. Despite his circumstances, he deserves love and he deserves to be a father just like anybody else.

I didn’t know what to do and I also couldn’t get a flight home. I kept walking and just hoped to see a sign. Marigold flowers baskets appeared in my mind. I prayed that if he is safe with God in heaven then please let me sight marigold flowers. My heavy steps down the road in a neighborhood that I have never been to which is located next to the familiar park. The color of marigold flowers, that dark orange color caught my eyes. Baskets of marigold flowers laid neatly in front of the doorsteps in most of the households. The first lesson of Marigold ends with reassurance.

Uncle, you are nothing like marigold, you are caring, warm and joyful. Nevertheless, just like her, you hide the truth behind the way you carry yourself.