Does anyone know this story????????????

Question

This story that i am looking for was mentioned in a story in "chicken soup for the gardeners soul" the story was called "The golden girls" the story was about two woman who although they were complete opposites became best friends, and they became divorced at around the same time, oddly enough one of the womans sister and child hood friends also became divorced, and they all became great friends hence the name "Golden Girls" one of the original best friends became fatally ill and on a car ride one daythey remembered a story about two friends where one became fatally ill and the friend who was ill said to the other friend "you'll remember won't you?" (about the story) and the friends said " i will, i promise" and then later on in the story it was a year later on the day that the friend had passed away and the friend noticed a flower growing in the middle of a hard frost, when all the other flowers had died, it budded and blossomed into a a beautiful flower the size of a carnation.

The friend called the daughter over and told her what had happened and said i have a message from your mom, and she recited the story that her, and her friend had read 20 years earlier.. The story was about a friend that was terminally ill and told her friend when she passed on she would make a flower grow in winter to prove to her friend that there was a life after death, so they made a pact... and they kept it... now does any one know the name of the story they bring up in the story it self?? anyon please!!
does anyone no the name of the story or ever heard the name of the story they mention in the story i was reading!?!?!?

Answer 1

Here you go, enjoy.

The Golden Girls
By Linda O'Connell

Rose and I met when we were in our mid-twenties. I
had invited her daughter to my daughter's third birthday
party, and Rose came along. We scrutinized each other and
assessed the obvious differences. She was a smoker; I
wasn't. I dressed conservatively; she didn't. She wore a
long, black flowing wig whenever she tired of her short
frosted hair; I wore the same "flip" hairstyle for years.
But we became best friends.
Despite our differences, we wore a path from my house
to hers (sometimes in our fuzzy robes), borrowing sugar,
guzzling coffee, sharing baked goods and details of our
lives. For 12 years, we went to yard sales, fast-food
restaurants, playgrounds and school events together.
Rose and I stayed best friends during tough times, as
well. Both of us had turbulent marriages. One summer,
both marriages finally fell apart. Coincidentally, Rose's
sister Millie ended her marriage about the same time, and
so did Rose's childhood friend, Judy.
The four of us became known as The Golden Girls. We
discovered a neighborhood club with an outdoor patio, and
we spent that summer sipping soda and dancing together to
old-time rock and roll.
After that summer, we calmed down a bit. As we
created new lives for ourselves, we saw less of each other.
Eventually, Rose and I attended each other's weddings, and
we visited together at family gatherings and holiday
celebrations. Each time, it was as if we'd never been
apart.
At my daughter's baby shower, I noticed that Rose's
one-of-a-kind laugh seemed hoarse. She told me she'd had a
persistent cough for weeks. Soon, diagnostic tests
indicated a mass in her lung. Exploratory surgery revealed
a large inoperable malignancy. I visited Rose in the
intensive care unit afterward.
"I love you," I told my friend, realizing it was the
first time I had said the words aloud.
"I love you, too," she said groggily, sealing our
bond.
After Rose recovered from surgery, I took her for
radiation treatment. We held hands in the waiting room.
When our eyes met, they brimmed with tears. On the drive
home we talked about this life and the afterlife. And we
talked about a story we'd both read many, many years
before, about two friends, one of whom was terminally ill.
"You'll remember that story, won't you?" Rose asked.
"I will," I promised.
The Golden Girls reunited. Millie, Judy and I spent
countless hours with Rose. We took her shopping and
dining. We humored her when her medication gave her
hallucinations. When she became incapacitated, we visited
her at home in shifts. I fluffed her pillows, brought her
doughnuts, massaged her feet and colored in coloring books
with her.
Rose spent the last week of her life in the hospital,
heavily sedated, surrounded by loved ones. At 51, her
breathing ceased and our mourning began.
A year followed, and I thought of Rose often. One
cold November morning, as I left for work, I saw something
pink protruding from a drift of decaying leaves. I cleared
the debris and gasped in disbelief at a flower bud. During
the summer I had planted a tiny, three-inch potted azalea,
hoping it would grow into a bush. It hadn't grown at all
and had never flowered. But here on this frosty Missouri
morning, with the rest of the garden killed by a hard
frost, the azalea bloomed.
I thought about Rose all day, and that afternoon, I
called her daughter.
"Denise, can you come by after work?" I asked. "I
have a surprise from your mom."
When I got home, I checked the azalea again. The tiny
pink bud had opened completely and blossomed to the size of
a carnation.
That evening, Denise came to my door. She looked just
like Rose.
"You're not going to believe this," I said. I told
Denise about the conversation Rose and I had had after her
radiation therapy.
"Twenty years ago, your mom and I read a story about
two best friends. One was terminally ill. She vowed to
make a flower bloom in winter to prove there was an
afterlife. Your mom and I discussed that story and made a
pact that day."
I led Denise to the backyard and showed her my azalea,
blooming in winter. Denise and I laughed, embraced, stared
in disbelief and cried tears of joy.
"This couldn't have come at a better time," Denise
said, wiping her eyes. "It's been almost a year since Mom
passed away. You've taken away so much of my sadness.
Thank you."
During the next week I watched in amazement as three
more flowers bloomed fully. I called Millie and Judy and
told them about the plant I nicknamed The Golden Girls,
with one blossom for each of us. We rejoiced at the
message from our friend. Incredibly, the plant thrived for
two weeks, surviving snow, wind and chill. Then, the
flowers gradually withered and died, completing the cycle
of life. But they left behind a vivid memory and a message
for all us Golden Girls that true friendship never dies.

Answer 2

nope