In Abuelo’s Flower Shop, a young girl named Elena is holding a bunch of yellow tulips. She shouts to her grandfather that she’s almost done gathering flowers.
It’s Elena’s first day working with Abuelo in his shop. A short time later, a woman in a black dress approaches them. She looks sad and is dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Is she okay?” Elena asks after the woman leaves. Abuelo insists that she is. He tells Elena not to worry.
As the day continues, Elena meets more customers. And with each customer, she senses a heaviness she doesn’t quite understand.
Finally, Abuelo explains that they are headed to the garden across the way. It’s a sad place, but special because it’s where people visit their loved ones who have died.
Abuelo’s Flower Shop by debut author Jackie Morera is a tender and sensitive lesson on how to support those who are grieving. Morera’s gentle hand guides young readers through Elena’s journey to learning about the cemetery nearby. The illustrations by Deise Lino add an extra layer of warmth and inclusion to this story.
Morera drew from her own life to tell this fictitious tale that also celebrates intergenerational love. She recalled her grandparents selling flowers from their home in Miami. “They were street vendors, and they would sell flowers to any passerby,” she said. “They lived catty-corner from one of the bigger cemeteries down in Miami.”
Out on June 4 from Beaming Books, Abuelo’s Flower Shop is Morera’s quest to answer what it would look like if a child realizes that there’s something more to this garden across the way. This story is a softhearted lesson about grief.
Ahead of the book’s release, Morera spoke with Latinx in Publishing about the inspiration behind Abuelo’s Flower Shop, what she learned about grief while writing this story, and more.
Amaris Castillo (AC): What inspired you to write this story?
Jackie Morera (JM): I wanted to write picture books as a creative adventure because I was writing longer form and wanted to try something different. I was dredging up these ideas and these moments from the past to tell the story, so it’s loosely based on my own experience (of) growing up in Miami and visiting my abuelos who would sell flowers from buckets in front of their house. They were street vendors, and they would sell flowers to any passerby. They lived catty-corner from one of the bigger cemeteries down in Miami.
The conversation between Elena and her abuelo – all of that is fiction. But the story, the place, and what could happen between a young child and their grown-up in those moments is what inspired this story of realizing when you’re young (that) there’s a reason why at least most of these people who are stopping by might be buying these flowers – and what that space across the street represents. And what that might look like when a child is inquisitive, or maybe isn’t inquisitive, and recognizes through various moments that there’s something more going on here and what the grown-up in that relationship might do. That’s what inspired this story: a little bit of real life, and then a little bit of speculation of what that conversation would play out as.
AC: In your book, Elena at first doesn't understand that the people who come to her abuelo's flower shop are grieving. How did you approach this lesson on how to support those who are grieving in order for it to be digestible to young readers?
JM: When I first wrote it, I wanted it to be a snapshot of a moment that could happen. Initially it wasn’t a book to help people understand what grief could look like. That wasn’t the motivation for putting the story together. It ends up feeling more that way, and I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful to have that story out there for children, and for caregivers who are looking to help children through those. But for me, I really wanted it to be an inquisitive child who is excited to be supporting or just being with her grandfather, and realizing a little bit more about what is happening around her. And then that led to a conversation about empathy and understanding how other people might be feeling and why.
(I also wanted it to touch on) the complicated relationship between young children and their caregivers or the grown-ups in their lives. In my experience, in the Latino community, the men are often head of household and maintain a lot of the more adult topics and the things that they try to keep children safe from understanding. So it was a little bit of all of these things.
“Initially it wasn’t a book to help people understand what grief could look like. That wasn’t the motivation for putting the story together. It ends up feeling more that way, and I’m grateful for that.”
AC: Some adults try to protect the young people in their lives from harsh realities or sadness, which can be futile. In your book, these themes literally arrive at Abuelo's flower room. I notice, though, that Elena isn't aware at first what that garden across the road really is. Why did you choose to have Abuelo initially keep that fact from her?
JM: In my experience growing up in a Latino community, children are very protected. I think there’s a nice difference here from what I experienced growing up with a lot of the grown-ups in my life, to what I would love for children to experience with grown-ups in their life – which is more of a softness, sensitivity, and an openness to having these conversations. But that’s where it started.
Obviously, we’re not a monolith. Not every community is this way, especially when it comes to grief. But the grown-ups and specifically the men like to protect the children as much as possible with these difficult topics, and keep them away from grief and loss and all of this. Elena is so excited to help her abuelo and be with him out there. This is a beautiful place with flowers and people, and there’s a garden across the street. She’s so little, so she doesn’t need to know these things. And I think sometimes adults wait until the very last minute to say something, to make something clear. In this instance, Elena is not experiencing grief herself. So it’s (about) recognizing the grief in other people.
Even now, as a parent, you never know when is the right time to share something with your child. I think abuelo is doing a little bit of that: he’s trying to maintain her knowledge of what is happening until it is really in front of her – until the customers really start to approach and she’s realizing. As a grown-up he’s kind of struggling with that, from when to make that clear.
AC: While writing this book, did you learn anything new about grief?
JM: I think there’s been changes over the past couple of years in general with how open we should be or recommended to be with children, and how explicit we should be in our language.
If I had written this story 10 years ago before having children, before working with children, before that educational awareness, maybe the language would have been a little bit softer. And now it says ‘people who died’ in the text because that’s something that is helpful for children anywhere, to have that very literal language of, this is what happens, and this is a way that you can keep the memories of that person alive. Whether that’s you as someone who has experienced loss and death, or you as someone who is helping somebody through that difficult time. That’s definitely something; how direct we have to be with our language with children. I feel like that’s a pretty big change.
AC: What are you hoping readers take away from Abuelo’s Flower Shop?
JM: I hope that readers walk away feeling more able to be curious. Because I think that’s something that I love about Elena. She’s asking these questions out loud, and that leads her to understanding what is happening. And if she didn’t ask, she might have come to her own conclusions – and maybe those wouldn’t have been the correct conclusions, or she wouldn’t have realized and had this opportunity to learn what’s going on.
I think recognizing that it’s OK to ask questions in uncomfortable moments helps you to be a more empathetic person. There are ways that you can help people who are going through difficult moments, even in small ways (like) helping them pick a flower or helping them remember their loved one… So that curiosity and that sense of, it’s OK to ask questions. And there are people around me who can help me better understand what’s happening.
Jackie Morera is an author of books for young readers of all ages. Born and raised in Miami, Jackie now lives in Central Florida with her husband, son, and goofy pup. She enjoys telling stories, savoring pastelitos, and cozying up for a good nap.
Amaris Castillo is an award-winning journalist, writer, and the creator of Bodega Stories, a series featuring real stories from the corner store. Her writing has appeared in La Galería Magazine, Aster(ix) Journal, Spanglish Voces, PALABRITAS, Dominican Moms Be Like… (part of the Dominican Writers Association’s #DWACuenticos chapbook series), and most recently Quislaona: A Dominican Fantasy Anthology and Sana, Sana: Latinx Pain and Radical Visions for Healing and Justice. Her short story, “El Don,” was a prize finalist for the 2022 Elizabeth Nunez Caribbean-American Writers’ Prize by the Brooklyn Caribbean Literary Festival. She is a proud member of Latinx in Publishing’s Writers Mentorship Class of 2023 and lives in Florida with her family and dog.
