A most amazing practice at the hospice where I work, is the Rose Visit. After the patient has passed on, we visit the family and take a rose in remembrance. We have always taken a fresh rose which is beautiful. It struck me, though, that it did not last. The remembrance would soon be lost. Others agreed but we do not have enough volunteers to make the beautiful paper roses.  Searching I found some beautiful cream colored silk roses and small little charms with the word “Love” engraved. They would actually be cheaper than the fresh roses. More importantly, the remembrance would last.

When they arrived I realized the stems would have to be cut with a wire cutter and the charm tied onto the stem with a ribbon. I scampered out to get wire cutters and ribbon. I set to work cherishing the task. The task became daunting. My arthritic fingers did not want to tie the ribbon. There’s a reason I wear slip on shoes. My eyes struggled to see how and where to tie the ribbon and charm. In short, I fumbled and bumbled my way through. As I struggled with the first and second one, I heard myself mutter, “This is a task for normal people.”

I paused. I held the roses and felt such a bond with those who would receive. And then the whisper, “Precious little one, what is normal about grief? Is your own struggle not how we individually and uniquely learn the dance of grief and loss?” I bowed to the rose, little charm, ribbon, stiff fingers and blurry eyes. Reaching for another one, I blessed the rose, charm, ribbon, and the awkward dance of my fingers and blurry eyes, “May my efforts leave a lantern to guide you through.”  The charm of Love never notices how awkward the ribbon of remembrance is tied.