Elizabeth Hummel pulled on her gardening gloves and tied on her apron with a flourish, humming quietly under her breath as she slipped her shoes on. Her son was beside her, and he was her mirror; he was clad in a matching pink apron and a floppy straw garden hat. He stuck his thumbs in his pockets and rocked slowly on his six-year-old heels.
His mother smiled down at him with rosy cheeks. "Are you ready to go help mommy pick out some flowers?" She asked him. She bent down so that she could be on his level. Kurt looked into his mother's crystal blue eyes and brushed a strand of loose, blond hair out of her eyes with a sticky, six-year-old hand.
"Yes!" He exclaimed in a high pitched squeal. He grabbed her hand and together the two were out the door, waving cheerful goodbyes to her husband and his daddy, and chattering happily about daffodils and tulips and tomatoes and green peppers and the perfect choice of floral arrangements.
The two arrived at the store, and soon their cart was brimming with brightly-colored flowers and packets of seeds and heavy bags of plant food and enriched soil. Kurt followed his mother down aisle upon aisle of flowers, grinning at the brightly-colored flowers and the nice workers and the pretty little lady bugs that landed on his porcelain skin. "Kurt, look!" His mother exclaimed, squatting down to examine a particularly lovely snapdragon; a majestic Monarch was perched atop it, its wings flapping silently as its long, tube-shaped mouth lapped up a healthy dose of pollen.
Kurt watched with baited breath as the butterfly drank, his rosy cheeks held with excited anticipation.
"Isn't that cool?" His mother asked him in a hushed whisper. He nodded carefully, not wanting to frighten the fragile insect. "Let's let it get back to doing butterfly things, and we'll go finish shopping for flowers, alright, sweetie?" Kurt nodded and grabbed his mother's hand once again, and the two were off.
Around 11:00 AM, the two Hummels returned home; the sun greeted them brightly as they unloaded the flowers and gardening supplies. "Burt, you'll never believe the deals we received on these flowers today!" Elizabeth squealed, entering the kitchen to find lunch prepared for the two. She enveloped her husband in a hug, kissing him softly on the cheek; Kurt was not far behind.
"Yeah, daddy, we bought some tulips and lilies and pansies and veggies and a really cute new watering can. And it came with matching gloves!" His hands flew up in the air to show off his new find, a pair of sparkly baby blue gloves. Burt smiled softly and picked his son up into a crushing bear hug.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that, buddy. Are you going to go help your mom plant them?"
"Yep!" Kurt nodded, scurrying out of his father's strong grips and out the front door, too excited to eat lunch.
"He's truly something, huh?" Burt asked, wrapping a protective arm around Elizabeth.
"He's perfect."
"Daddy, why are we doing this? Shouldn't mom be doing this with us?"
Burt looked down at his 8-year-old son, visibly fighting back tears. "Your mom's too sick to help us right now, son. So we're going to do this to make her happy. Do you want to make her happy?"
"Of course, daddy. I just wish she could be here with us."
"Yeah, she always did like to garden."
Kurt stopped in the middle of the garden center suddenly. "Daddy, you're missing the most important part!"
Burt turned around and gave his son a wary, but concerned, look. "What's that, kiddo?"
"You're missing the gardening apron and gloves!"
"The wha-?"
Kurt went down an aisle and returned with a pink, floral apron and a pair of matching gloves with a rhinestone flower design. "See? Now you can match me!"
"Kurt, I don't want—I don't think—"
"Mommy always wears her special apron and gloves, and we always get good flowers. It's like magic."
"Like… Like magic." Burt held the apron and gloves in his hands and looked around, sighing. "Well, it's hard to go against magic... Alright, kiddo, let's just get some flowers and get home to plant them so we can cheer up your mom."
"Yep, just like magic. Maybe that will make her feel better enough so that she can come help us garden!"
Burt glanced down at his son and picked him up in his arms. He gave him a big squeeze and lifted him on his shoulders. "I'm sure it will cheer her up."
Burt entered the floral shop with a grim array of features; his ten-year-old son walked solemnly behind him, head down, his cheeks puffy and rosy from obvious tears. He placed his hands on the counter and looked at the worker behind the counter.
"I need flowers for my wife—"
"Oh, how romantic of you!" The bubbly worker replied, not allowing him to finish his depressing sentence.
"-for her grave." He finished sadly, his voice breaking on the final word. He outstretched his hand behind him and Kurt squeezed it excessively, little whimpers emitting from his otherwise still composure, sobs wracking his thin frame and seeming to take over his physical being.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, sir, coming right up. Would you prefer—"
Burt was visibly upset now, the loss still fresh in his heart, mind, and soul. "Whatever you would normally do." He managed to choke out before turning around to envelope his son in a hug. It was promising hug, a promise that he would do whatever it took to raise his son right, to allow him to be whatever he wanted, to fight for him and care for him and laugh with him and cry with him. Elizabeth Hummel had been right about a lot of things, the most important was that their son was special. And he would do whatever it took to protect him, both for the memory of Elizabeth and for his son.
With the flowers ordered, they drove in near silence to the graveyard. They trudged quietly through the woods, listening to the chipper songs of tweeting birds and the fragrant smells of fresh flowers. It seemed so uneccessary that the world could continue to revolve, that spring was beginning to bloom while his world had been completely shattered, completely torn apart by premature death to a young woman who deserved to live longer than most.
The two arrived at Elizabeth Margaret Hummel's grave and Burt set the flowers down in a heap. Kurt stood next to him, sniffling quietly. A few minutes passed before he murmured softly, "No, daddy, you have to arrange them."
Burt looked down at his son with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. He cleared his throat and asked in a crackly voice, "What's that?"
Kurt bent down to the soft earth and began arranging the flowers around his mother's grave, poking and prodding and placing until they looked just right. He stood up and stuffed his hands in his suit pocket before resting his head against his dad's hip. "Like that."
Burt admired his son's handiwork as if the Sistine Chapel had just been painted before his eyes. He looked at the grave and back at his son, sending a small prayer up to heaven, thanking Elizabeth for her perfect parenting for their perfect son. It was definitely a sign, Burt Hummel was sure about it.
"It's perfect, son." He replied in a gruff voice, clasping a strong hand on his lean back. "Your mother would love it so much."
"What are we doing, Daddy B?" AJ asked curiously as he was buckled into the back of the Escape.
"You and I, little man, are going to the hardware store!" Blaine replied with a bright smile before getting into the car and starting off towards the store.
"But what for?" AJ asked again.
"Well, you know how today's Mother's Day?"
"Yeah, but, Daddy B—Daddy K's not a mom. He's a daddy!"
Blaine smiled softly and glanced at their son through the rear-view mirror. "Of course he is! He's your daddy, and he's a very good one. But—" Blaine explained. "Mommies and daddies can be parents, right? And since you are lucky enough to have two daddies, I think we can call Daddy K an honorary mommy for the day. It's about celebrating mommies—and great parents—everywhere. Because not every family has mommies, right? It's a good day to celebrate parents. Does that make sense, son?"
AJ thought for a few minutes, biting his lower lip and playing with his fluffy curls. "Well, I think so. So what are we going to do for Daddy?"
"Well," Blaine thought aloud, turning into the hardware store and unbuckling his son. "I think we're going to plant him some flowers in the backyard."
AJ crinkled his nose. "Why?"
"Why?" Blaine repeated, laughing as the two entered the store hand in hand. "Because flowers are pretty and because your daddy likes 'em, that's why! Does that sound like a good reason to you?"
AJ once again took a second to think about it. "Yes, yes I think so!" Soon the two Hummel-Andersons were in the garden center of Lowe's, picking out flowers and potting soil and gardening supplies; Blaine remembered the stories Kurt had told him once about his mother's gardening extravaganzas, which was the selling point on the new apron and sparkly gloves he bought for him. He even splurged on a new pair of gardening boots ("Not Crocs, ugh, whoever thought those would be good gardening shoes had to have been on serious medication.") and a new floppy gardening hat. Although their garden in the backyard was meager, he was sure with Kurt's expertise, it would soon be budding to its full potential.
"Daddy B, look!" AJ exclaimed, pointing towards a new watering can that was shaped like a piglet.
"Oh, perfect, AJ. Would you like to get that for him?" AJ nodded exuberantly, his curls bouncing up and down with his excited decision. "Great! Now let's go finalize our decision on all of the flowers and we'll be ready to go home and plant them for him!"
Together, the two exited the store with flowers of every hue, the new apron and accessories, and, much to AJ's delight, the new watering can. They arrived home and began to plant and dig and mulch and arrange, stopping only for a minor bee sting and a smoothie break.
By the time they were finished planting, the sun was high in the sky, marking late afternoon. Kurt would be home in an hour; it was time they finished and got cleaned up before the man of the hour arrived home.
Kurt pulled into the garage and was met with his husband and child, who were both dressed in their dapper Spring suits. "Well, good afternoon to you two!" he exclaimed as he exited the Focus. "What's going on?"
"Well, Kurt," Blaine started, placing a strong hand on AJ's shoulder. "Your son and I have decided that because you are one of the best daddies and parents on Earth, you should be treated like one!"
"Yeah!" AJ exclaimed. "And even though it's Mommies Day, we think you deserve to be—um—" He looked up to his Daddy B for support, trying to remember what they had gone over.
"Celebrate."
"Yeah, you deserve to be celebrated because you're an awesome parent." AJ finished with an award-winning grin, ducking his head as he looked up at Kurt.
"Oh, you two—you didn't have to do anything for me. What have you two been up to? See, this is why I shouldn't work—to keep an eye on you two!"
Blaine and AJ looked at each other and laughed before each grabbing one of Kurt's hands and lead him to the backyard. Kurt's hands flew up to his mouth as he saw the flowers, and within a few seconds tears were leaking from his eyes.
AJ was dissatisfied with his response. "Daddy K, what's wrong? Are you sad?"
Blaine placed a shoulder on Kurt's, resting his chin against the other shoulder. "Is everything okay, babe?"
Kurt nodded quickly, clearing his throat and speaking in a high voice. "Yes, oh yes you two, it's perfect! My mother and I used to plant flowers all the time when she was still alive, and—I just miss her. I associate this time of year and gardening in general with her, and it just brings back a lot of good memories." Kurt wiped his hand against his cheeks, ridding them of the hot tears.
"So… so you're not sad?" AJ asked, staring up at his Daddy K through thick lashes.
"Absolutely not. I'm overjoyed with happiness, my sweet, sweet boy. My two sweet boys. Thank you so much."
"You're welcome, Kurt." Blaine responded, kissing him softly on the cheek. "I'm so glad you like them."
"They're perfect. You're perfect. We're perfect."
And he silently lifted up a small prayer to his mother, knowing that this was one of her divine acts to make sure he was reminded of what was important in life. It was truly perfect.