Who cries for The Roses?

My paternal grandfather died forty years ago, in 1974.  Dad and I were the last people he recognised before slipping into a coma. It was ironic as he hadn’t been unwell, whereas my other grandfather had been seriously ill and hospitalised, but made a full recovery and lived for another seven years.

It was my first funeral, and the little chapel where we held the service before cremation was full. I sang my heart out to Abide with Me, and held my Dad’s hand throughout. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry.

I remember going back to their house for ‘refreshments’. My natural grandmothers had both died way before I was born, but Gramps was survived by his fourth spouse. I had to do a double take though as Gramps was sitting in his chair by the fire as normal. I didn’t understand, but as the tears cleared, I saw it wasn’t him, but one of his brothers. It was a long day for all of us, and other than the day of the funeral, I only went back once.

Gramps loved his garden. There were lavender and lilac bushes lining the front path and roses of so many hues by the gates, in beds on the lawn and either side of the front door. That second visit made me almost physically sick. The plants he had so lovingly tended had been ripped out, the naked gaping earth an open wound to where they had once stood in their glory. The spouse’s son couldn’t be bothered, and had destroyed them all.


Dad had been given a cutting from what Gramps had called ‘The Blue Rose’. It wasn’t blue at all, just a pale lilac, with huge velvety petals, and a scent so rich, it was like your own piece of Heaven’s garden. The cutting flourished, and in turn, cuttings were given for other gardens and us to enjoy.

So, whenever I see a lilac rose, I think of Gramps.


About pensitivity101

I am a retired number cruncher with a vivid imagination and wacky sense of humour which extends to short stories and poetry. I love to cook and am a bit of a dog whisperer as I get on better with them than people sometimes! In November 2020, we lost our beloved Maggie who adopted us as a 7 week old pup in March 2005. We decided to have a photo put on canvas as we had for her predecessor Barney. We now have three pictures of our fur babies on the wall as we found a snapshot of Kizzy, my GSD when Hubby and I first met so had hers done too. On February 24th 2022 we were blessed to find Maya, a 13 week old GSD pup who has made her own place in our hearts. You can follow our training methods, photos and her growth in my blog posts. From 2014 to 2017 'Home' was a 41 foot narrow boat where we made strong friendships both on and off the water. We were close to nature enjoying swan and duck families for neighbours, and it was a fascinating chapter in our lives. We now reside in a small bungalow on the Lincolnshire coast where we have forged new friendships and interests.
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