Some of my earliest memories are wrapped in the scent of fresh blooms and the gentle touch of my mother’s hands, carefully arranging flowers as if they were delicate whispers of joy. Growing up as Debbie’s only daughter, in a house filled with children, I somehow always found myself nestled in her world of petals and stems, a world where beauty was effortless, and love was something you could hold.  I was just five years old when I learned the quiet wisdom of flowers:

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•⁠  ⁠Gerberas and Asters, distinct yet connected, belonged to the same daisy family, like siblings with different personalities.  

•⁠  ⁠Roses and Peonies, despite their graceful resemblance, were strangers to one another in nature’s grand design.  

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But beyond names and families, flowers were life itself to Debbie. She was "The Flower Lady"—never officially, but undeniably so. Whether it was the church every Sunday, her workplace every Monday, or family gatherings filled with laughter, she adorned spaces with blossoms, never expecting anything in return. It was simply who she was.

 

When cancer took her from us in June 2018, after four years of fighting, the world lost color for a while. But I see her still. I feel her in the blooms that brighten a room, in the lingering scent of fresh petals, in the quiet joy of a well-arranged bouquet.

 

The Flower Café is my way of spending time with her again. Every arrangement is infused with the happiness, warmth, and love that she poured into her craft. If our flowers bring you even a fraction of the joy I felt sitting beside her, watching her weave magic with petals, then we have honored her beautifully.

Thank you for allowing us to share this love with you.  

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-K.K