I never really appreciated the beauty of roses, until recently. They were never my favorite flower, they seemed cliche'; everyone seemed to receive roses for special occasions.
When my mom was so very ill and not long before her passing, her sisters bought her beautiful rose bushes to add to her already lovely landscape she worked so tirelessly to keep picturesque. It was then that I saw her light up, like the clouds had parted and given her one final day of happiness. Why had I never seen this before? Possibly, I was too oppositional to the rose in general, or possibly I had never really paid close enough attention to my mother's passions or hobbies.
That day caused a floodgate of memories to come pouring in of my childhood. I remember the beautiful rose bushes my grandma had on the farm. My mom always swooned over their beauty. On one visit to the farm my mom asked if she might take some cuttings to attempt to grow the roses at home. My grandma of course obliged, but I'm sure grandma felt the same as I did at that time, it won't work, but you go ahead and try anyway.
Well, my mother proved both my grandma and me wrong! She did indeed "sprout" (as my mom always called them) one of grandma's rose bushes. As a matter of fact, that rose bush still sits in the yard with all it's glorious blooms.
It has been nearly three years since my mom's passing and yet, I still have those moments where I want to pick up that phone to tell her something. I hope from heaven, she and my grandma can see that I have found my love of roses, and I too, carry on the tradition of the roses at my own home.