I never believed one could communicate with the dead, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

It’s almost been five months since my mother passed away, and just a month ago, I made the decision to get a part of my life back.
My feet led me on to the park my mother had always loved. I sat on a nearby bench, and tried to recall the happy memories we had shared at this very park. I got up to leave when my gaze fell upon a dainty-looking sunflower beside me. Tears gathered in my eyes at the sight of it. They were mother’s favorite—sunflowers. Gingerly, I picked it up and took it home.

Each day, I went back, and every single time, there was a sunflower laying on the bench. I concluded my mother was speaking to me; nothing could convince me otherwise.

One particular day I went, there was nothing in sight. Desperate, I waited and waited, but still, there was nothing.

Joyously expectant on my birthday, I went there, still to find nothing. I decided not to wait, and continued strolling on. I had no idea where I was headed, but I carried on. Seeing as the sun had began to set, I made to turn around, but a large expanse of land captured my attention. Moving closer, I could see it was a field. A field of sunflowers.

The hue of the sky reflected marvelously on the field, and I became spell bound.

The following day, I made my way to my mother. I stood at her grave, my present to her in hand. All the sunflowers I had received were bound together to make an eye-catching wreath.

The sunlight made the stones on her tombstone glisten, and my breath catch in my throat. Wordlessly, I placed the wreath on it. Each flower, her promise to me—she would always be with me—and this wreath, mine to her. She needed me to be strong and endure, and through teary lids I made a vow to do just that.