87-year-old Priscilla loved to garden. Spring was her favorite season.

Each year, she

awaited the arrival of the pure white cherry blossoms and the deep blue squill amidst
the cold winter air. But this year, the flowers had not yet appeared. As she sat in her
dead garden, Priscilla turned to Nurse Elena.
"Today marks the anniversary of my husband's passing. He would watch me tend my
flowers. Where are my flowers?" Nurse Elena sighed passively. This response was met
with Priscilla breaking down in tears. Priscilla was led to her room by Nurse Elena.
The next day, Priscilla was required to remain in her room. She stared out at her garden
and noticed the flowers had not yet bloomed. The earth was still cold and bare.
Her therapist Dr. Samuels entered. "Priscilla, Nurse Elena informed me that you were
became very upset yesterday. Usually, the first of April brings you so much joy."
"Yes, Doctor," she responded. "This is the first spring in which I cannot feel my
husband's memory. The cherry blossoms have not yet come from the trees. The blue
squills have not yet come from the ground."
Dr. Samuels stared out the window and sighed passively. "I see… Does this mean you
no longer feel your late husband's presence?"
Once again, Priscilla broke down in tears and was escorted back to her room by nurses.
As Dr. Samuels exited the nursing home, a strong gust of wind blew white and blue
petals from the garden past him. He stared at the garden once more and sighed.
That night, Priscilla shuddered in her sleep wailing that the room was too cold and her
sheets were too warm. She wailed into the night. The next day, she described her night
terrors to Dr. Samuels.
"I dreamt that my garden was finally in full bloom… But then the earth around it dried
up and set our home on fire. This means my husband is in hell. Am I headed there, Dr.
Samuels, am I."
Dr. Samuels took out a book. "I cannot answer such philosophical questions. I can
however refer you to the wise words of Sara Teasdale." Dr. Samuels read Priscilla the
poem "Blue Squills".
This time Priscilla retired to her room without the need for assistance. Nurse Elena
approached Dr. Samuels holding a bouquet of blue and white flowers she had picked
from the garden. "How much time does she have?"
Dr. Samuels responded: "It is hard to say. Her reasoning is slipping quickly. She has
buried the memory of her husband leaving her for their florist, but she still feels the guilt
of his unfaithfulness."
Nurse Elena sighed. "I hope when her dementia finally takes her from us she will not
bear the scar her husband left on her through the endless sleep of death."