Don't judge flowers. They did no wrong. Even if my little flower is so weathered and old, even if it's dead. I love it like nothing else, and you will not stop me from loving my flower.
Grandpa gave it to me. It was fresh until he died. It died too. I love it like I love my grandpa. Not loved. I still do. He does too, looking down on me. I know he does.
Today morning, the rose is not dead, the rose is alive! It can only mean one thing...
My grandpa's back!