I have heard—Everyday a single flower grew in the hospital garden in the same spot a day after the caring gardener picked it the day before to give to the patients. Whatever was happening, the gardener said nothing because no one seemed to listen anyway, so he thought.
He was a busy man and didn’t think too much about it until a woman who looked exactly like a women who died the day before was admitted to the hospital. He thought, “Why doesn’t anyone else see or recognize her as the same woman?” He was sure it was her but again said nothing--it was not his place.
When he arrived home, he told his wife the story, but she was neutral and simply told him, “It is just a coincidence, now let’s eat supper.” So they did just that, knowing the conversation was over and maybe she was right—he was mistaken.
The next day, after coming from the garden, he entered the woman’s room to find her still there; relieved he went about his duties. This time, out in the garden, a second flower had grown next to the first. One nurse was overheard saying to an associate, “It’s crazy how the gardener died just a day after his wife.”“Yes, tragic, but who put the flower in her room?”