This Broken Rose

Lying upon a bed of black velvet, this rose of crystal seems a thing of beauty. It is, infinitely, so much more than that. It represents the handiwork of gentle hands patiently forming the crystal clear stem. Hands lovingly crafting the elegant leaves dipped daintily in gold. The crystal clear parts of the flower represent how each of us can be seen through and through if the right person is looking. The gold is purity and a richness untold.

Each petal of the frosted, pastel, melon-colored rose is delicately formed. Each petal is a part of the whole. In it's fully formed self, it was perfect. There was not a scratch, not a chip, not a crack anywhere.

Along life's way, this rose has traveled many a mile. Some of these paths have been filled with joy untold. Some have caused fractures and even breaks.

This broken rose shows signs of one who loves it dearly, attempting to heal the broken petals. The glue held for a while, then turned loose allowing the petals to fall. Throughout the years, some were lost even though we tried desperately to hold on to them. Some are still here, but detached. They are held for memories only. Held to remind us there are some things, some people, who we cannot control. If that means another broken petal, we simply have to remember it is only one petal not the whole bloom and the rose still holds beauty.

This rose to me, my precious daughter, is a physical representation of a love you have shown me throughout your life. As a baby, you held tightly to my finger with a strong grip. You trusted me to provide your every need and want. As you grew, it was more and more difficult to shield you from the hurt, the pain life hands us at times. Always, you were there. It broke my heart to see your heart cracked and shattered. Would that I could have taken all the pain, the disappointments, upon myself. But we both know it doesn't work that way.

There are many things neither you nor I really understand. There are many things each thought the other knew and understood, yet, we did not. None-the-less, broken parts, scars, and wounds taken into account, we are still things of beauty, formed by God. We may have some parts that are worn, yet, still harbor a beauty that cannot diminish.

We have always tried to be there for one another, to soothe the hurt away, to hold and love one another, no matter the situation. To some, this rose may look like a broken rose. To me, it is a thing of beauty bestowed to me many years ago by my beloved daughter and has withstood the tests and torments of time. It is a little worn from the wear, but in my eyes is more beautiful than it was when it was pristine, new, unappreciated and unloved. It is an object that can be see with the eye, touched with fingers to remind me of a love, a beauty, a bond that has sustained me for many years. The hardships only enhanced the soul of two human roses touched by a bond shared only by you and me.