Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Have You Heard The Story?

Have you heard the story of my roses? The first time I wrote about it was at the start of September two years ago, in fact just a few weeks after I started my blog. I'm going to share it with you again as I have a little extra bit to add and you really have to know the story first.

                                                   The Last Rose of Summer 

 I do not have green fingers, most of the plants in my house or garden die and only the hardy survive.
 I'd love to have a garden profuse with plants and flowers but alas only ivy and a large bamboo have survived my tender loving care, but there is one that we forget about because its so small we don't really notice it.
My friend gave me a rose bush as part of my 40th birthday present which was sixteen years ago you'll be shocked to hear. I planted it against the fence under some ivy and left it, and  in spite of my non- green fingers we had a lot of roses  that first year which was also the year I lost my father.

Just a month after my birthday he became ill and spent the last week of his life in a hospice, a few days before he passed as August gave way to  September I looked out into the garden at my rose bush, there was one rose left, it was perfect, and knowing my dad loved gardens and flowers I cut the rose wrapped the stem in tinfoil and took it to him in the hospice.
My father was not a demonstrative man which made it hard to speak to him about love or anything like that so I thought the rose would say that for me  but fate intervened and when we got there he had slipped into a coma and  he passed away a few days later.
I placed the rose at his bedside and told him  I had brought him  the last rose of summer from my garden.


That was fourteen years ago, the ivy has taken over the fence and I still can't grow any flowers. The rose bush hasn't grown much, it hides under the ivy  and every year since my dad died, in the last days of August or beginning of September only one rose blooms on that very small bush and every year when I see it peeking out from under the ivy I know that my father did see the rose at his bedside and knew its meaning and  every year he sends one back to me.


















Eleven months after writing this I added this postscript.
 The ivy on the fence has been removed and the fence replaced as it came down in the terrible rain and gales we had. The rose bush was cut back to nothing and I forgot about it. Today I noticed it had grown and bloomed again with the usual one tall rose, but beside it was another much smaller one. This has never happened in fifteen years. The gardeners amongst you will probably say it's not being choked by the ivy anymore and it has more light.
 I always said my father sends the rose to me each year and my first thought is he is sending the second one to my new granddaughter born one week ago, the great granddaughter he never got to see and would have loved immensely.
 A romantic notion? Or a symbol from a loved one? I'll never know but I like to think its the latter.
Not quite in full bloom yet. One for me and one for Abigail.


And in bloom.


My new addition to the story of my rose bush started of being a sad one. My husband was using his new petrol strimmer and was rather carried away by it's power and cut my rose bush (again) to nothing. As this was only a few months ago I despaired that there would be no roses from my father this year, it just wasn't possible for it to grow so quickly. Well we should never underestimate the power of mother nature and other things unbeknown to us because my rose bush has bloomed with not only two roses but three.
My granddaughter will be two years old on Saturday and for two years there have been two roses, and the third? We have a new baby grandchild due just before Christmas and I know it's my dad's way of sending me a sign that he knows about it. In fact they all know, all my loved ones no longer here to share the joy and happiness of my grandchildren.


My three roses sent from dad.


I often  ask myself, what happens after you leave this earth? I have blogged about it a few times. My roses are one of the signs that gives me the hope that I crave that there is something that we don't know of yet but we will....one day.





26 comments:

  1. Oh Anne, that's so moving. What a beautiful message from your dad.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is lovely. A friend had a cutting from her father's scarlet geranium when he died - and she took cuttings, and more cuttings, till her garden is gloriously vibrant - such a wonderful reminder of her dad.


    Flowers are such wonderful reminders of those we've loved.

    ReplyDelete
  3. That was beautiful!!! As are the roses.

    ReplyDelete
  4. The circle of life. It brought tears to my eyes, very sweet.

    ReplyDelete
  5. We all look for signs I think I've found mine.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Thanks Ros, it's nice to believe it is .

    ReplyDelete
  7. Anne, this is just so beautiful, I am quite choked. Your father is determined that your rose bush will not die so it will keep on giving you blooms from him. This is truly lovely that with each new grandchild, there is a new rose. And for me it is even more. I have just posted about my precious twig. I didn't know you'd written this post about the roses, but mine is also a kind of rose - some call it the rose mallow. Makes me feel connected in some way.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thanks Val. I'll probably find a reason for each new rosé. Going to read yours now.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I believe with all my heart that our loved ones are capable of such acts of love beyond the grave and I believe that you have properly interpreted your dear father's message. "For those who believe, no explanation is needed. For those who do not believe, no explanation is possible."

    ReplyDelete
  10. What a lovely comment Joyce. It's nice to know someone else believes. If you visit again and have a blog please leave it's name so I can return the visit,

    ReplyDelete
  11. A remarkable post, Anne. I'm a true believer that those who have gone before us are actually still with us in heart and soul.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Thanks Catherine,I think so too,

    ReplyDelete
  13. Anne, I remember reading this the first time but what a wonderful addition to it. Made me cry. Who knows what is waiting for us when that time comes but I like to think there is more to this world then the hear and now. I like to think that our Dad is sending you those roses and is watching over his girls (well and bump). A wonderful and touching post.

    ReplyDelete
  14. How lovely Anne. It must bring you much comfort : )

    ReplyDelete
  15. I'm so glad you commented on my blog. If you hadn't I may not have found yours. I loved this story. It gave me the tingles. I got the tingles many times while uncovering my family history, and things that happened then left me in no doubt; those who have died remain with us in some way. Bless your lovely Dad for letting you know.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Awe thanks Kate. I was in tears writing it too.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Hi Jenny,thanks for finding me. My rosé bush does not act like a normal rosé bush and I think that's what makes it special.

    ReplyDelete
  18. What a beautiful story Anne and a lovely remembrance of you Dad. You have beautiful roses. I agree that things like this are signs from the beyond from our loved ones. It's great to have that connection and that part of him living and growing right in your back garden. Love never dies!

    ReplyDelete
  19. Hi Jen. It's just so strange how for 14 yrs there was only one rose then my granddaughter was born and I have two.

    ReplyDelete
  20. Awww, such a beautiful story, Anne :)

    ReplyDelete
  21. I believe those who die, do stay with us. Remaining silent in the background, sending a message, or sign when you need one.


    Lovely story Anne.

    ReplyDelete
  22. Thanks Maria,what a lovely comment.

    ReplyDelete

I'd love you to leave a comment, it would make me smile.If you leave one I will always reply to you.