Getting to the Roses

Can I be brutally honest here? I don’t want to offend anyone, but to quote my youngest child, “GRIEVING SUCKS!” It’s painful and messy and unpredictable; it can make you sad, angry, depressed, relieved, and confused – all in the space of a few moments. You think you’ve got a handle on it, that things are calming down, and then – WHAM!! It slams into you like a tidal wave on a rocky shore, knocking you over and trying to drag you under. As if your heart didn’t already have enough bruises and abrasions. And you find yourself fighting just to take a breath while tears roll uncontrolled down your cheeks.

But then there are the sweet moments. Like when you see a photo that brings memories of a happier day. Or you sit around a table and talk about the time you went to Vegas and he came wearing a t-shirt, jean shorts and flip flops and was so surprised as he drove down the hill into a snow storm. Or the night he sent you a text all geeked out at a Dodger game because Steve Garvey had just signed the back of his jersey.

And, sometimes, even often, God meets you in a special way with a peculiar brand of comfort you didn’t even know existed. Like two days before Mark’s Celebration of Life, when I was picking roses to feed to our desert tortoise, Tyler – (yeah, I know, that’s another story) – and a thought is planted in my head that springs to fruition that night in the poem below. Before you read it, let me say this: it’s not unusual for me to get an idea, write a rough draft that may take me an hour, put it away for a few days, pull it out again and work on it another hour or so, maybe do that one more time and then finally post it (after letting Steve read it for editing purposes).

With this, I sat down to begin writing and it literally flowed onto the page; start to finish it took me about 30 minutes before I was ready to show it to Steve. He approved, I showed it to Jen the next day, and the day after that we placed it in a frame and set it next to the guest book at the Celebration.

So, here it is …

ROSES

Before we are born, we are like a newly formed rose bud, enclosed and protected from view, but with a promise of beauty to come.

Then at our birth, for the first time the world gets a glimpse of who we are and what we might become.

We grow a little more and gradually spread our petals. For those with the insight to see, there are signs of the individual and unique glory that God implanted in us.

At full bloom we are stunning, each of us a one-of-a-kind creation with our own glorious colors and fragrance, soft to the touch and enchanting to the sight.

Then our bloom begins to fade although our scent remains, perhaps even stronger than it was initially. Treated properly, our petals can give sweet fragrance long after our bloom has died away.

Yes, we are like roses … a promise, unique, beautiful, glorious, leaving a sweet fragrance behind in the memories of all who gazed at us, knew us, and loved us.

I hope you find that comforting. One final thought: in the question my friend asked during that hug, there is a part of the answer. You don’t get to go around, under or over grief – you have to go through it. Even with all its hills and valleys, cliffs, shorelines, deserts and sharp turns, that’s the only way to get to the other side. But it’s also the only way to get to smell the roses.