The Last Rose of Summer
This is a memorial post on my mother who died in October eight years ago, updated with a picture from my blogging friend Paul Militaru
Six years ago my beloved mother died in October. What I had feared as a child just happened. She said every autumn, that she had taken “the last Rose of the summer” from the garden. She was a rose herself.
Always thinking about us her children and keeping her correspondence with many people all over family and friends. If she didn’t get a letter for a long time she said oh:
“I am so sorry I didn’t hear from that person for a year or so”.
Here is a Pingback to a fellow blogger on someone being remembered as a rose.
My mother never gave up, but kept on writing and sure enough, she got letters back. Now I am able to “see” her as she was when I was small and even further back when she was young during the WWII and fortunately I have…
View original post 198 more words