What’s in a Rose?

What’s in a Rose?

A memory. A fond memory of long ago… when we fell in love.* When I first dared to take your hand as we walked together. The drops of morning dew on its tender petals remind me of the freshness, the purity of that moment!

Where are you now, my love, my darling? Are you surrounded by glorious angels? Are you enjoying the fellowship of those that have gone before? What is heaven like? Can you look down on me? Can you see my tears? If so, don’t take it as grief, but only as an expression of my deep love for you. I long to send you a letter, an email message, a rose, a touch. I miss the touch of your soft, smooth skin.

Where are you my darling, my love? Today I saw you in a rose.

Forever yours.

Ralph

*On our first date I called ahead to find out what color Frances would be wearing. Then I took her a delicate yellow rose corsage to pin on her blouse. From that day forever her favorite flower was the yellow rose. She was 16 and I was 17. I picked her up in my recently purchased 1933 Oldsmobile. That classy old car had belonged first to my grandmother, then to my mother. Finally I bought it from my mother for 100 hard-earned dollars. That Saturday night we went to Youth for Christ in downtown Portland. As we walked together from where I parked the car to the Portland Civic Auditorium our hands touched and sparks flew. Then I built up the courage and took her hand. 500 volts charged through my being! I can remember that moment like a picture, even where we were on the sidewalk when it happened. She was my love, close to me for over 60 years, first as “going steady” for nearly two years and then almost 59 years faithfully by my side through bright days and dark nights as my darling wife.

Because her favorite flower was the yellow rose, our sons would sometimes buy her a plant of yellow roses to adorn our garden. The one in the picture is from a plant, a gift to her from our son, Mike. Today its beauty called me into the distant past. Yet just ahead we have another date coming… and I can hardly wait! Lord Jesus, maybe you’d let me take her a yellow rose.