Later that afternoon I took the second picture as it had opened more. Then on Sunday morning it had opened so beautifully, I ran to get my camera to take a picture before church (the last picture). It looked so perfect, so exact. I had focused on this one flower so I was very pleased with how it had turned out.
After church as we were pulling into the driveway, I glanced over at the rosebushes and didn't see this rose. I got out of the car and ran over to look at it. The stem had broken and it was hanging upside down, barely connected. The petals were limp. The flower that I had chosen to photograph its journey to Austin died before I could give it to him. I held the flower in my hands and sobbed.
My son died before I could have him. The flower died before I could give it to him.
4 comments:
This was such a beautiful analogy Andrea. Just beautiful.
Okay, this analogy has me in tears. It was beautiful Andrea.
Oh, Andrea. Thanks so much for sharing. It was really beautiful.
Oh, Andrea! That makes me cry, too! Someone very sweet hugged me a few weeks after losing Benjamin, and whispered that she had lost a baby similarly many years ago. There were tears in her eyes, and she said her daughter is like a rosebud waiting for her--one day she will see her open and be able to enjoy her like she longed to here.
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