Thorns of Rose

I bring my rusty old blue pick-up truck to a slowed stop in the out-dated parking lot. Hesitantly, I tug the key out and slip in into my jeans pocket as I shove the driver door open and slide out. Because this cheap truck is so old, if I pushed the door open any harder, it most likely would've fallen off. Before I slam it, I grab the bouquet Sam gave me the night of the crash that's been perching on the creaky center console the whole drive here. Then I slam the door just as hard as I opened it up.

The rain has been downpouring on an off in this town for at least a month now, ever since the accident. Well, of corse it starts up again the moment I step onto the freshly-dampened grass. Bring it on, mother nature. I toss my hood over my head and hide the bouquet under my jacket. I walk.

When I was young, my older sisters would always tell me lies and play dumb tricks on me until I broke down and my eyes would spill over. But, through all the pain they caused me, there was always one thing they would tell me that never caused me sorrow. They would tell me that the raindrops were the angels' tears from Heaven. I always thought it was nonsence, but ever since Sam died, I began to believe it. Possibly the angels pity me and my depression. Or maybe the weather is just not on my side anymore.

I avoid stepping on the graves that approach me as hard as I attempt to keep myself from tearing up. Seeing all of these people who have passed away, it forms a lump in my throat. I am sure all of these men and women had lovers who loved them to pieces, just like I did Sam.

At last, I step in front of his grave, so he can have a perfect view of me and my sorrow. I try to pull myself together, Sam wouldn't want to see his girlfriend in tears.

I slowly bend down, bouquet of roses hugged between my forearm and chest, and I again read the words incarved in his gravestone.

"In Loving Memory Of Samuel Richard Shaw, a beloved son, grandson, great-grandson, brother, friend, and - -"

A teardrop embarassingly escapes my eye and I read the following word.

"Lover."

I shut my eyes tight as images of my boyfriend holding me, hugging me tightly, our first date, our engagement-ring shopping, and his lips meeting mine pound in my mind with every slowed heartbeat. His adorable laugh and his sweet words to me circle my head over and over. My images and thoughts are flushed and my eyes flicker open by a sharp wind that howls into my ear. The rain grows heavier and heavier.

I finish reading.

"Rest In Peace, Sam.
January 18th 1993 - June 12th 2011"

I take a deep breath and I smile a tiny smile. "Exactly a month ago you were taking me on a date to my favorite restaurant, Sam. You gave me roses as I stepped into your car. You gave me roses everytime we saw eachother, just because my name is Rose. I always thought it was so cute. Do you remember that night, Sam? We were almost there, we were at a stoplight. A driver who was overdosed on alcohol and stupidity rammed into us - on the driver's side. I heard you scream, the most sad and frightening scream I have ever heard." I stopped to inhale hard, swallowing my upcoming tears.

"I was fine, but I wish I was the one who was deathly injured. The poice showed up quickly, but I was far too stunned to explain what happened. Ambulences took you to the nearest hospital, and I was screaming your name as they drove off. 'I love you Sam!' I would scream."

"I waited at the hospital for you. I had faith you would be alright. I have never been religious, but that was the first time I truely prayed. I prayed for you, your safety, your life. Oh Sam, there was nothing more I wanted than you to be okay. But, my 'wants' and 'wishes' were destroyed when the doctors stepped out of your room and told me the news. They told me you had a very, very limited time to live because of how severe your injuries were. They told me I should leave you alone, but I did not listen to them. I burst through that door to see you, cradled in your little hospital bed, with tubes stabbed into you from every direction. That is when I broke down into tears."

Just like I am now.

"But, you were half-awake and your face lit up at the sight of me. You couldn't speak, but your eyes whispered, 'Rose, come to me.' And so, I did. I inched to your face and I kissed your pale white forehead, then your cheeks, and your dried lips. And then, you spoke the very last words I've heard from you."

Through my soaked eyes and the heavy rain and smog, the gravestone is difficult to read, but the image of his name - Samuel Richard Shaw - is as lit up to me as his bright blue eyes were when I entered his room that night in the hospital.

"Do you remember what you said, Sam?" My voice shakes as I speak now. "You told me I was beautiful. That's the last thing you ever said to me before the doctors rushed me out of the room. Not even ten minutes later, the doctors told me you had passed away. But they found something in your pocket, Sam."

I search my pockets. I first pull out my truck's keys, slide it back, and venture to my left pocket which holds a small box. I pull it out and open it for Sam to see.

A ring is snuggled inside of the tiny box. The one we picked out together. He was going to ask to marry me the night the drunk man hit us.

The little blue ring grows wet from the pouring rain. I set it in front of his gravestone.

"Yes, Sam. I will marry you." I can hardly spit out the words because of how choked up I am.

I pull the bouquet of roses out of my forearm's grip and begin picking the roses out of it, setting them in front of his gravestone to greet the little opened box.

"These roses you gave me that night are no use to me, now. You can keep them. They are very beautiful, Sam."

I pluck all of them out of the plastic wrapping and slide the wrap into my dark hoodie's pocket.

The moon peaks out from behind the tall hills and lights up his grave like a spotlight.

"Goodnight, Sam." I say, slowly standing up. I kiss my fingers and touch them to his gravestone. "Sweet dreams, darling."

I turn and make my way back to my emptied, lonely life. And my rusty old pick-up truck.