Pressing Flowers

This is a picture of the stack of books and magazines that are pressing the flowers from the top of my grandmother’s casket.

As my grandmother died over 6 months ago, I know these flowers are dry and ready to be mounted and framed, but I can’t bring myself to touch them. Maybe it’s because if I mount the flowers and display them, that’ll mean my grandmother’s really gone. This is the reason it took Valerie Jackson, Maynard Jackson’s widow, so long to commission his obelisk.

Hopefully, at some point this year, I’ll be able to mount these flowers. But I’m not gonna rush it.

The book on top of the stack on the left is one of the books my best friend gave me to help me cope with my grief. I haven’t read it yet, but I’m sure it’ll be enlightening.

I was going to crop this photo in an attempt to hide the scuff marks in the corner, but I stopped myself. I’m trying to cure myself of the “perfection sickness” social media creates. The fact is my life isn’t perfect. So I’m going to stop presenting images that suggest it is.

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