Lilac page 2

LEGATINE LILAC?
by Robyn Goulding (Dirk's father's sister)

My heart was heavy as I climbed out of bed that morning. It was November 3, 2005, the day after my nephew, Dirk Wolf, was shot and killed. I was still in shock, and very sad, feeling the terrible loss my brother and his wife had to be suffering. My body carried its dazed head through the normal morning routine-- shower, get dressed, apply makeup, blow dry my hair. I was really warm so I opened the bathroom window to let in some of the cool fall air. As I turned back away, though, I suddenly paused. Something wasn't right. Looking back out the window, I was astonished to see, right at the top of my lilac bush, a bright lilac flower in full bloom, along with a few green leaves. I couldn't believe my eyes. So I opened the screen, climbed up on the toilet, and put my head all the way out the window. Sure enough, right on top of this stark, dry, soon-to-be-leafless bush was a lone purple bloom.

This is northern Illinois. In my experience lilacs burst into bloom in early to mid-May, and last only a few weeks. I've never seen or heard of lilacs blooming in the fall, much less November. There was only one thing I could think of as I viewed this miraculous appearance. It was a sign from Dirk.

This bathroom window is on the second story of our house, and it looks out over the top of our very old and very tall lilac bush. In the spring, the breeze wafting through this window perfumes my bathroom with the wonderful scent of the new blossoms. Lilacs are my favorite flower. I first fell in love with them when I was 16. I remember a lovely evening in May, waiting for my date to arrive (my second date with Randy, my husband of almost 35 years), when my father mentioned that the fragrance filling the air was coming from a lilac bush in the front of our house. Ever since then the smell of lilacs brings me back to the excitement and promise of young love. Even now, as I take my daily walks, if it's spring I often have to stop just to put my nose in the fresh blooms. I introduced my two oldest grandchildren, TaeLee and Tate, to the beauty and aroma that I so love. If you want to hear a little girl say, "Lilac," just ask TaeLee what Grandma's favorite flower is.

Randy and I checked the "Dirk Lilac" every day. Eventually it died and the dry flower is all that remains, along with a few green leaves. As I write this, on December 4, the green leaves are still visible even though the ground is covered with snow. What could explain this seemingly impossible occurrence? And not just that it would happen at all, but that it coincided exactly with such a horrifyingly tragic event. Maybe there's a scientific answer; maybe not. All I know is that this lilac provided comfort to me at a time when I needed it. And I believe that somehow, somewhere, Dirk was letting me know he was fine and that his spirit was free, joyful and at peace.