Spring bulbs

Anna' s late husband had left her with the most beautiful gift¼

Ihaven' t been anywhere since Jack died in September. My sister, who lives on the coast, has been on at me to visit for ages.

Come and stay with me, Anna,' she says. The sea air will do you good.'

I' m not even tempted.

It' s January now. For the most part, the tears have dried and the sharp pain has faded to a deep ache in my heart.

I thought I was getting stronger until I saw the first snowdrops.

Such small flowers. It' s like a miracle, the way they force their tiny stems up through snow, frost and ice.

They never fail. I take one look, and I' m crying.

Damn you, Jack,' I whisper. Why did you have to leave me?'

Jack had planted the bulbs back in July.

A bit early,' he' d said, then shrugged as if dying was merely an inconvenience.

I had tried to talk him out of it.

Save your strength,' I said. But he wouldn' t listen. He ordered them online, and every day more packages would arrive.

A garden needs bulbs,' he kept saying.

The house was a new-build, so when we moved in, there was nothing in the garden but grass and empty borders.

We' d been so excited about planting it up, the way we wanted it.

Building a garden seemed such a lovely way to spend the rest of our lives. But we' d only been here six weeks when he got the diagnosis.

He planted most of the bulbs over a long weekend, and refused to let me help him, even though I could see how tired he was.

As I took him his tea and biscuits, he looked up and smiled: They' ll be something to remember me by.'

I don' t need bulbs for that,' I replied.

But I knew why he' d said it.

We' d lived in our old house for 29 happy years. Every room held memories.

I didn' t even have to close my eyes and I could picture family parties, Christmas dinners, long lazy evenings cuddled up on the sofa

It s like a miracle, the way they force their tiny stems up through snow, frost and ice

even the silly arguments and making up afterwards.

Our life together was etched into every part of the house.

The garden was full of memories too¼

The tree peony he bought me on our 10th wedding anniversary. Fruit trees planted in memory of grandparents. Bargain plants bought for a pound that had been on their last legs.

We hadn' t brought any plants with us. We' d both wanted a blank space.

The end came more quickly than either of us imagined.

In a way, I' m grateful. I couldn' t bear to have watched the man I loved fade away to nothing.

The crocuses appear next, with rings of soft colour

mauves, pale oranges and yellows emerging around the young fruit trees.

I' m struck by just how beautiful and delicate the flowers are. If you look closely, some have subtle stripes, while others are such a pure, pure white.

They hardly seem real. As the days start to lengthen, the buds of daffodils and narcissi appear, and time starts to pass more quickly as though the world is eager to reach the long, hazy days of summer.

Jack loved daffodils.

In our old garden, he grew six different kinds.

Some were bright and blousy with orange blooms and not just one, but two layers of fringed petals far removed from the traditional daffs that I' d grown up with.

I always preferred the ordinary ones, with their bright yellow trumpets.

I can' t help noticing that those are all he' s planted. There isn' t a fringed or a double bloom in sight. Just a host of golden daffodils.

Wordsworth' s poem comes to mind, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud¼

Are clouds lonely?

It' s hard to tell. They change so fast.

A heavy wind creates havoc overnight, bending and almost breaking some stems.

Jack would have cut them and taken them indoors, but I can' t bring myself to do that.

For the first time, I notice their scent as I get back from shopping.

Again, I almost pick some, but decide not to.

Next, the spear-shaped leaves of the tulips appear.

They' re very pretty, but for me, the flowers don' t last long enough.

They only last a few days, while the thick heavy leaves linger for ages.

Jack reckoned there were even more different kinds of tulip than there were daffodils, but I prefer the simple plain red ones.

As the stems grow longer and the buds appear, I notice something that makes the breath catch in my throat.

Jack hadn' t planted the tulips in clumps.

Unless I' m very much mistaken, he planted them in the shape of a heart.

I run upstairs for a better view and see that I' m right.

In a few days there will be a big red heart in the garden, a message from Jack, saying that even though he' s gone, our love will go on for ever.

It' s only then that I realise he hasn' t really left me.

It' s not just the bulbs. I can feel his love everywhere I go.

It' s in every leaf of every tree, every petal of every flower and, most of all, in my heart.

Apart from doing the shopping, I haven' t left the house for six months.

As I catch sight of the tulip buds, I come to a decision. I call my sister.

About that little break by the sea¼'

In a few days there will be a big red hear t in the garden, a message from Jack