Growing up my dad used to call them dead manʻs flowers.
Our neighbor Mr. Kubo would let us pick gardenias but not the anthuriums, those were his own he made for his wife and they were growing under the hāpuʻu.
I used to watch aunties board the plane on our way to Honolulu with bouquets wrapped in newspaper.
These flowers represent love. Love that still goes on even when your gone.
Growing up my dad used to call them dead manʻs flowers.
Our neighbor Mr. Kubo would let us pick gardenias but not the anthuriums, those were his own he made for his wife and they were growing under the hāpuʻu.
I used to watch aunties board the plane on our way to Honolulu with bouquets wrapped in newspaper.
These flowers represent love. Love that still goes on even when your gone.
