It felt such a momentous moment that I actually interrupted my bird and wildlife photography Instagram feed to post about them. I think I can count on one hand all the times he bought me flowers during the more than two decades we were together. I was always okay with it because I had convinced myself I didn't want to "waste" money on flowers but how much money did we "waste" on cars? If we had bought one less car over our marriage, how many bouquets of flowers would that have equaled?
But besides the infrequency, what stood out most to me today was the fact that they were red roses. There is nothing about me and my personality that says red roses. My favorite flower is the daisy. Carnations had a special meaning for us (flowers I gave him when we were dating). I told stories about Black-eyed Susans. I always admired the most multi-colored bouquets we saw. I had planted so many other varieties of flowers in our garden when we owned a home but not one single rose bush. I am anything but traditional red roses.
And as I reflected on this today, it hit me. His Mom loves red roses. He bought the flowers his Mom would have wanted.
The tears rushed down my face as the pain hit me of all the ways he didn't take the time to learn about my preferences, desires, needs, etc. Even when on the rare occasion he did something special for me, it was still about him and what he felt I should want, need, etc. Or maybe it was about his relationship with his Mom. Maybe I was just a stand in for his Mom.
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