Yellow roses are quite captivating.  Yellow is not my favorite color, but when it paints the petals of a rose, it causes me to remember sweet faces.  Memories of my Grandma Mahar and my father-n-law immediately come to mind.  They both loved growing roses, and yellow ones always seemed extra special.

Last week I saw yellow roses in a new way.  A beautiful cascade covered my Aunt Pearl’s casket, a single yellow rose placed carefully in her hands.  Their beauty, like a blanket of peace, provided comfort during a difficult time.  I would imagine Pearl’s love of roses came from her mother, my grandma.  And that she passed that love on to her children.

Flowers in this setting may seem insignificant to some, but I would disagree.  Anytime objects bring to mind images of those we love, they have value.  If we allow them to jog our memory, a cascade of yellow roses may turn into a flood of sweet faces.  Faces of those who loved us.  Faces we never want to forget.