Life generously offered many chances to paint a memory, but Hope understated death's abrupt nature of visits. You were so close within my mind's eye, yet so distant without; clothed with anxiety like that of Zacchaeus you waited, while wearing Job's patience like a bead on your wrist. I was relying on hope to come home soon, never knew the time is nigh for the Rose to drop her petals.
I knew only one person who called you nothing else but Rossy, in my heart you were the only precious ROSE; cherished and adored. Like a seed of rose, you were planted. You germinated, bloomed, radiated your beauty, spread your fragrance irrespective of thorns of life. When the time came you lowered your petals yet, your fragrance remains on the sand of life on which you treaded to make your journey home.
Your love for me like the amphibious Caecilian mother, never sopped flowing. Hearing your demise struck like a crack of thunder, imposing unremitting grief and unbroken melancholy distorting my tranquility with contours of tragedy and leaving my soul so disconsolate and sad.While taking comfort in the embers of hope i could find withing, i know your resurrection will be as glorious as Easter sunday. I Love You Still Mama.
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