Wisdom in a rose garden.

Over the past few weeks I have planted numerous new plants, many of which were roses. I know have 9 rose bushes in my gardens, my favorite being the one by my front porch. This rose did not come from a nursery of a DIY, at least that is not where I got it from. I pinched it from my grandfather's garden five years ago.

This rose bush take a distinguished place in our families horticultural history, along with the birthday iris' of my moms. But to me, there is so much more to it than just being a plant. To me it is a reminder of a wholesome man.

Everytime I pass this rose bush I ask myself, what is the true measure of a man? Is it how much he makes? Is it how many friends he has? Or is it what he has accomplished? And, most importantly, how do I measure up?

I think alot of how great a man you are is how many lives you've positively touched. 2000 years ago a humble carpenter touched the lives of many in profound ways. Although all he touched didn't know him as intimately as they could have, his impact was not diminished.
Roughly 30 years ago another humble carpenter touched our lives, as my grandmother married her second husband. Though his impact was not a wide-spread as the former carpenter, to me is was just as profound.

I did not have a close relationship with him, geography and other things separated us. However, I noticed things about him that I greatly admired even as a child, even more so as a man.

Although he had no children of his own, he loved and cared for those of his wife as if they were his own. The love extended not only to her children, but to her grandchildren too. He was always willing to help anyone who asked and always seemed to see the silver lining in everything. He was also very much the man.

What I admired most about him was his unrelenting work ethic. It didn't matter where he was, if there was something to be done, he would do it or lend a hand. Often while visiting us, he would assume KP, and after a few days would be found in the yard raking leaves or planting trees and flowers. He worked even harder at his own home, which he had built with his father nearly 40 years ago. Through endless renovations, additions and remodels, he worked tirelessly to work on his homestead, even when he fell ill. It is this attribute that I most admire and wish to emulate.

With the 5th anniversary of his passing coming ever nearer, I think not of the rides in his old green GMC, the Vernor's and milk, or his sweet laugh. I think of the love he had for us all. At his funeral, the priest said that he would want us to remember him loving us, but it is we that love me still.

I have figured that the true measure of a man is what is left behind after he is gone. How he is remembered, and will his great grandchildren know him, even though they have never met.

It is not uncommon to love someone who is gone, but it is to be loved in return. He is still dearly missed.

sincerely,

Paul's Grandson