Dead Flowers Don’t Need Water

Memories are what’s left when someone we love dies. As creative beings, we look for ways to create a place or an object to help us focus those memories.

In our kitchen window sill sits a simple vase, cradling a single rose. The rose, a keepsake from Terri’s sister’s gravesite, serves as a delicate, dried reminder of a life once vibrant and full. Terri’s mom has one too, but hers is still in water—as if the flower might somehow bloom again, defying the inevitable. But dead flowers don’t need water.

Like a guest who refuses to leave, that thought has continued to sit with me. Dead flowers don’t need water. It’s as clear as day. No amount of water will revive what’s already gone. Yet, we find ourselves doing the same with parts of our lives—pouring energy, time, and emotion into things that have long since withered away.

Though it rarely speaks in gentle whispers, grief, in its wisdom, has a way of teaching us this lesson. Grief shouts boldly in empty rooms, echoes through photo albums, and lingers in the scent of a forgotten shirt hanging in the back of a closet. We human beings tend to cling to what was; sometimes out of love, sometimes out of fear. We don’t like to let go. We hate to forget.

Here’s the thing: there’s a considerable difference between honoring what’s gone and trying to keep it alive. That dried rose in our vase? It doesn’t need water to be meaningful. Its beauty isn’t in its freshness but in the story it carries. Its attractiveness is in the memory of the life it commemorates. This faded rose stands as a testament, not because it continues to bloom, but because it bloomed. Its purpose isn’t to grow but to remind.

In Ecclesiastes 3:1, we’re told, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Life is full of seasons—some for planting, some for harvesting, and yes, some for letting go. The challenge is knowing which season we’re in. Are we nurturing something that still has life, or are we trying to water what’s already passed?

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV

Grief isn’t linear. It doesn’t come with a book of organized instructions. Maybe a part of healing is realizing that we don’t need to keep trying to water what’s no longer living. Rather, we can cherish the memory, honor the impact, and find beauty in the remains—not because they’re still growing, but because they once did.

Today, as I glance at that rose, I’m reminded to hold space for both the living and the dead. I’m encouraged to pour my energy into what still breathes—relationships, dreams, faith—and to let the dried petals speak their quiet truths without trying to change them.

Dead flowers don’t need water. But they can still hold meaning.

Some Questions to Think On:

1. What areas in your life are you still trying to water that are no longer alive?
2. How can you honor the past without getting stuck in it?
3. What’s something living in your life right now that deserves your attention and care before it dies?

Until my next post…

Grace and peace,

Rainer Bantau —The Devotional Guy™

The Stigma Stops Here.🛑

#mentalhealthmatters