Roses – #WickedWednesday

You mention roses to most girls and what does it normal make them think of? Valentine’s Day? A loving partner? A guilty partner? A box of chocolates?

I have never been bought flowers by a guy and if I was ever to received flowers from anyone, the last type I would ever want to received would be roses.

Most girls would be so excited and happy to receive a bunch of red roses. I however am not like most girls. To me roses mean something completely different.

At my grandad’s funeral last year all of the immediate family, my grandma, my mum, my aunt, my cousin and I were all given a single red rose to place on his coffin at a certain part of the service. Sitting in the car on the way to funeral trying to get my head around what was actually happening I couldn’t help but see this single red rose as something to hate, the final goodbye.

I didn’t think I would cry at his service, I’m quite uncomfortable with showing emotion in public but sitting next to my mum with her gripping onto my hand with all her strength I just couldn’t keep the tears from flowing down my face.

Then the moment came when it was time to place the roses on his coffin, I was the last to stand. I didn’t want to leave my rose on this box that contained one of the greatest men I’ve ever known. I didn’t want it to be real, I wanted to place that rose on the coffin and to wake up hoping the past few months of watching him declined from his active 80 year old into the shell of a man that will now never return would all just disappear. 

The last time I saw him alive will stick with me for the rest of my life. It was 4 days before he died, I had gone to Leeds to visit him in the hospice. When I arrived the family was all surrounding his bed, I was ushered to his side and instructed to lean over him on the bed while my mum tried to rouse him awake, letting him know I had arrived. He opened his eyes, looked up at me and smiled. Everyone around me burst into tears. That was the last time he opened his eyes.

Roses will always remind me of that moment of saying goodbye to my beloved grandad for the last time.

Roses will always mean sadness to me.

God help any guy that doesn’t know me well enough and ever buys me roses.

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About Charlie

On twitter as @CharlieInThe
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7 Responses to Roses – #WickedWednesday

  1. Great post. I feel the same about roses. We had white (wife), yellow (kids) and blue (grandkids) for my dad. Sending you a big hug. xxx

  2. I don’t like flowers, but I do like yellow roses and sunflowers. Even though I’ve had my share of funerals of loved ones, and there were flowers, this is not the reason why I don’t like flowers. But, I can see why you don’t like roses.

    Great post.

    Rebel xox

  3. Awww *huge hug*
    I’m glad you wrote this, but it does make me sad that you have those memories. A couple of years ago, my daughters singing mentor died…there was a huge funeral, and all the girls from the choir got to keep a bloom from the flowers on the coffin.
    It’s hard for her to look at that now without feeling sad, but maybe one day she, and you, will be able to smile at thememory of the person and not their death xxx

    • Charlie says:

      Strangely enough other things that remind me of my grandad don’t make me feel sad, they make me remember all the great things for him, it’s only red roses that do. Think I had to put all my grief somewhere.

      • It’s good to write about it….it’s why I have my blog, because sometimes you just have to let it go, or atleast relieve some of the pressure stored up in the mind when these things get too much xx

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