A Birthday Miracle

I was very close to my Granny. Her birthday was July 2nd and mine was July 4th. She always waited those two days to celebrate her birthday so we could celebrate together.

She passed away at the age of 93 five years ago in May. When July 2nd came, I found myself at the cemetary, sitting beside her grave and 'talking' to her. Next to her headstone is a rosebush. I noticed that it was covered in buds, I watered it, said my good bye and went home. The 4th of July came, it just didn't seem like my birthday without her there, so once again I headed to the cemetary. When I arrived I noticed the rose bush was filled with bright, beautiful, yellow roses! I'd never seen so many roses on such a small bush.

I could smell the fragrance from the roses as soon as I stepped out of the car. It smelled so good! I wished Granny was here to see them. She had loved roses. Somewhere deep inside, I felt she did see them, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. I pulled a few weeds that had sprouted up, talking to her in my mind.

When I pulled into the driveway of my home, it dawned on me that I'd forgotten to pick a few of the roses and bring them home the way I'd meant to. I decided I would go back the next day and get a few.

I was met with an incredible sunrise the next morning as I went out onto the deck with my morning coffee. I sat and planned out my day, with the first stop being the cemetary to get the roses I'd forgotten.

'This is weird!' I thought as I arrived at the grave site. The little rose bush was completely bare of roses. I thought someone had come and picked them all and I was very angry. I walked over to the rose bush to look for the cut marks, but there were none! It was like the roses had just disappeared.

I thought about the disappearing roses for some time, even to the point I thought maybe I'd imagined them. Time went by and soon it was the 2nd of July again, I went to the cemetary and there were the buds on the rosebush, just like the year before. This time I took pictures so I could make sure I wasn't just losing it. I went back on my birthday, with the camera once again. Lo and behold, the bush was overflowing with big beautiful yellow roses. I snapped a photo and put my camera away. A slight breeze began blowing. It felt so good on my parched skin. Then, faintly, on the breeze I could've sworn I heard my Granny's voice saying:

"Happy Birthday sweetie, the yellow rose stands for rememberance. I love you."

I was crying as I returned home. The next day I went, once again, to the cemetary. Sure enough, all the roses were gone. I go back every year on the 2nd and the 4th of July, and every year, without fail, the yellow rosebuds appear on her birthday and the full blown roses appear on mine. It's the only rose bush I've ever seen that only blooms for one day. My Granny's loving gift to me.