Remember the Marigold

“Do you want to talk about it?"

The boy broke the soul-searching eye contact he had been maintaining with the grass. He glanced to the side towards the voice, eyes reddened and nose wet. He could see the age in the face of the man. In every wrinkle there seemed some hidden glint of wisdom. That’s why he’d come to him, but his tongue felt heavy, as if coated in steel.

“What’s there to say, Mr. Edely?” he asked. His voice was weak, yet his tone broke through like a dagger.

“That would be hard for me to say.” Mr. Edely turned his gaze to meet the horizon as the wind blew through their hair. “You could say you’re okay, but I don’t think either of us believe that.” He turned back to the boy with concern shining from his eyes. “Just start at the beginning,” he continued.

The boy stood to his feet as if to avoid it all. He began pacing with his hand over his mouth. The harder he tried to dam up his tear ducts the more freely they seemed to pour his hurt out. He stood silent, glancing across the fields this particular hill overlooked. He looked peaceful for a moment, as if the sight of the land stretching forward was of some comfort. His jaw dropped slightly to speak, and with the weight of it came the weight of pain. The boy paused and put his hands on his hips, propping one leg in front of the other, shifting all his weight to the other leg. The man watched the partially silhouetted boy crumbling before his eyes.

“What’s that thought, Silas?” Mr. Edely broke the silence. Persisting silence followed the question, but the tension of Silas’ thoughts was heavy in the air.

“Is something wrong with me?” The words fumbled from Silas’ lips. “Am I so terrible? Things were great, Mr. Edely… I had planned so much. I really thought this was it. I really wanted this to be it. I just… I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”

Mr. Edely stood up and walked forward to stand parallel with the heartbroken boy.

“Liza.” He said glancing only slightly out of the edge of his glasses which now glinted with the light of the orange sunset.

Silas’ eyebrows furrowed. What is he talking about? It took so much effort to say anything at all. Now he’s completely changed the topic.

“What!?” Silas asked as if he’d just been insulted.

“Liza,” Mr. Edely repeated, as if he spoke from some distant memory. “Her name was Liza. She was… Beautiful. Beautiful and wonderful. She was like warm sunlight on cold skin. She was like a strong breeze when you feel like you can’t take one more minute of the summer heat. She was like a dream that you wake up from and you’re only disappointed that you couldn’t stay longer. She made me dream, that’s for sure.” He glanced up at the clouds passing by, painted in orange and lavender light. “I still dream.” He smiled, but only slightly. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, as if the memory soothed his aching bones. “Have you ever felt like life was just as it should be?” He asked without opening his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Silas responded, quite unsure why he was being told all of this. He wasn’t sure who Liza was. Mr. Edely had never talked about her before.

“You will. You will,” the older man said, opening his eyes, his wrinkles folding gently and fondly beneath his eyes. “We all do eventually, at least once. She was that moment for me, Silas.”

“Who was she?” Silas asked cautiously.

“She was my world.” He blinked, and his cheek was met by a tear or two. “I’ve never loved someone like that.” He took his glasses off and wiped his sleeve across his face. “My first love.”

“Did she leave you?” Silas asked, feeling like he needed to let the old man walk through his memories.

“She did.” He put his glasses back on and the edges of his mouth curled upward slightly. “I’d seen her there across the way. I was always a shy boy. It wasn’t like me to approach a girl just because she was beautiful. I didn’t even think about whether she’d be able to hear me over the music. I did it though. I walked right over and talked to her. We talked the rest of the night, ignoring all our friends, much to their annoyance. It was like we’d found-" He paused as if unsure how to continue. “Like we’d found fate. It was just right.”

He looked over at the young boy who was listening intently. “Come. Sit down again.”

They situated themselves on the grassy hill. “We dated, we fell in love. We laughed together and planned together. I’d found my life’s joy. So I asked her to marry me.”

“She said no?” Silas interjected.

“She said yes. Must have been no less than seven times,” Mr. Edely corrected the boy. “She was as sure as I was. So we got engaged. We planned the wedding. We said our vows and she took my name. Life was all I could ever want,” he said, falling into silence.

“Why are you telling me this?” Silas asked after a few moments.

“Like you, it was all I ever wanted. I had so many plans.” He took off his glasses again, meeting the sunset with a distant stare. The bags under his eyes glistened in the diminishing light.

“Sometimes life has other plans, my boy.”

“What do you mean?” Silas continued his questioning.

Mr. Edely didn't answer immediately. Instead he surveyed the fields spread out from the foot of the hill.

Silas was silent. He didn’t know what to say. Though his heart still ached deeply, he had almost forgotten his own problems entirely.

“Marigolds were her favorite flower. She said they were more hopeful than the rest of the flowers. She always lit up when she saw them. She always talked about how beautiful they are. I told her that they were nothing when compared to herself.” He looked across the field again. Silas turned to look where the old man had locked his gaze. The fields were freckled with marigolds. Now that he’d noticed, he couldn’t help but notice how repetitive and almost drab the rest of the field seemed by comparison. The flowers caught all of his attention now as they sprouted up in an ocean of unremarkable and redundant tufts of grass.

“They are beautiful.” Silas remarked.

“Why did I tell you this story?” Mr. Edely asked, not turning his face from the marigolds and the dimmer dusk light that now set upon them.

“I don’t know, Mr. Edely,” Silas said weakly, as he remembered his own heart ache.

“Look at the field, son. The marigolds are what stand out most are they not?” The old man said more confidently.

“They are,” Silas answered.

“Life is filled with marigolds. They’re those moments that are joyous and hopeful. They teach us how to dream and make us believe the world can be wonderful. My dear Liza was a marigold. A glimmer of color in a black and white sky. They come and go,” He turned to look at Silas. “You’ve lost a marigold. But there are always more to be found. You will dream again. That doesn’t mean you must forget the beauty you’ve seen. You mustn’t forget the treasures you lost, but neither can you let yourself lose hope.”

“Is that why you brought me here? To tell me about the marigolds?” Silas asked.

“Hmm.. perhaps I did. It wasn’t intentional though,” Mr. Edely replied, watching the last of the sunlight fall behind the hills in the distance. “I come here to remember. It’s what she wanted. She didn’t want me to remember the hospital or the graveside. She wanted me to remember her life. She wanted me to remember the marigolds.”