My love is a romantic. He'd love to send me flowers every day. Even if he could afford that, such extravagant displays would leave me embarrassed and uncomfortable. We've found a good work-around. He snaps pictures when he's out and about and sends them to me by email, usually with a love note. Once a week, once a day, sometimes more. I have his words to go back to again and again, and the flowers never wilt or fade.
He never tells me where he takes the pictures. Chris is in and out of hospitals and nursing homes every day; he provides medical transportation for those who need more than a taxi, less than an ambulance. "Driving Miss Daisy," he calls it. "Only Miss Daisy is in a wheelchair." So I'm sure some of those who give or receive these bouquets associate them with pain and loss. For us, though, they are sheer beauty.