
As you know, I love roses. I love them even when they are dying, like these ones. There is something beautiful, yet slightly macabre about gorgeous red roses in their final stages of bloom.
Maybe it’s a cliché but roses really are like a metaphor for love in real life….first, the precious rose-bud like the thrill of new romantic love, then there is the full blown blooming gorgeousness of long-life-together-kind-of-love represented by roses in full bloom. Then, finally the graceful and bitter-sweet love found in appreciating something and thinking it beautiful through its final stages of life, while decaying and dying…somehow fragile yet still achingly beautiful. I am sure a poet wrote about it….
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I found these in my mother’s garden…so pretty at such a sad time.
There has been a loss in our extended family. And amongst these flowers in my mother’s garden.. we gathered as family and friends at a candle lit table at dusk… to reflect, to laugh together, to share a meal, reminisce and comfort each other at the passing of a dear friend, a family member and a lovely lady now gone.

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