The Last Flower of Summer

my mother dressed my sister as "the last rose of summer" one year for halloween. sometimes i forget that part of my mother, her creativity....she did have that as part of her. i usually credit my father with giving me that gift: he played the drums, he liked poetry, especially that of alfred lord tennyson. amazing the things about mom and dad that can pierce your otherwise healed heart years after they are gone. for some reason today i am feeling the loss of them very strongly, almost a sense of sheer disbelief that they have been gone for so long, my father since 1990, my mother since 2000. my parents. hi mom, hi dad. here's the last flower of summer for you.....a lone verbascum found growing on the side of oakridge drive. it still surprises me that i even saw it; it was the end of a walk by the lake, almost dusk, but i found it...or did IT find ME? was it YOU saying hello mom? are you there dad? hello/goodbye, again.