I bought a house in Middleton, Idaho, in 2016 and could at last fulfill my dream of having a rose garden. My five bushes flourished, and I had roses from June to early November. I gave them away to neighbors, friends, and to the darling boy who mowed my lawn – to give to his deserving single mother.
One fall I took a photo of the last bouquet, noting the frost damage on the petal edges. I posted it on Facebook with this message: The “Last Rose of Summer” from my front garden. We’ve had several nights of frost and my roses are showing its damage along the edges of the petals. Just like their owner, they are past their prime. But I’ve discovered over the summer that roses smell their sweetest as they ripen and wilt. I hope I can share the fragrant fruits of a long life with those around me before the last petal drops from my soul….
My granddaughter and I couldn’t bear to toss these blooms when they were finally dead “as a doornail” so we didn’t! They live on in my kitchen completely dry and many petals gone. But there’s still a macabre beauty in what remains, and the Fallen Petals speak poignantly of summer days gone by and hopefully life well lived.
As I reflect on this life-and-death cycle, I see that people are a lot like roses. We emerge as buds, bloom while sending out wonderful scent, only to finally drop our petals and die as all mortal creation must. Those petals are the scent of what we leave behind, the legacy for others to build on.
My parents left a rich heritage of talent, deep integrity, and great love for their six children, many grandchildren and now great grandchildren. After my mother’s funeral in 2005, I saw her vibrant energy flowing through all of us in various ways. My Dad’s solid work ethic and absolute honesty lives on in both my children and their other descendants.
Many others have left petals of legacy in my life. Here are two:
Helen was my parents’ neighbor in Iowa City and was a Professor of Russian at the University of Iowa. Here she is sitting on their patio in a characteristic pose of peace and attention turned outward, but eyes tinged with sadness. Her father was ousted from his university position during the Bolshevik Revolution. She was lucky to escape the Siege of Leningrad with her two sons during WWII. (Her books, including Siege and Survival, are well worth reading.) After working as a waitress in Paris, she finally emigrated to America, teaching Russian to American servicemen, then finally landing a stable faculty position in Iowa. Her youngest son was later killed in an earthquake while traveling in Eastern Europe, and she told us she had been reduced to what she could take in one suitcase four times in her life. But carrying on, she took in boarders, kept in touch with former students all her life, and made continual lemonade from the lemons life handed her. She loved people, and oh, how we loved her!
Alma was a wonderful Menonite woman who came to work for my mother to cook large batches of food about once a month. I loved to come home after school and banter with her. She didn’t brook any nonsense but always had a twinkle in her eye and love in her voice. My mother later told me she was the child the family designated to stay home and take care of their aging parents, denying her a family of her own. She never complained and just got on with it. Far more than the tasty cookies she made is the lingering taste of her good humor, devotion, and service.
The petals of memory from these treasured people have never lost their fragrance. The longer I live, the more indebted I feel to those who’ve gone before but aren’t really gone. I can hardly wait for the great reunion beyond the veil, but until then I’m tending my own petals, nurturing their scent, and hope it falls on many souls.
I wrote this in 2019 and am updating it here for my current audience who, with me, are preparing for “The End Times” when Christ returns to rule and reign during a thousand years of peace. To help bolster our courage and faith for the trials ahead, I’d like to quote from Elder Bruce R. McConkie, an apostle in my church who passed on some years ago. He comments about who will be at the glorious appearance of Adam/Michael, then all the heads of dispensations from him until now, and then capped by an appearance of our Savior at Adam-ondi-Ahman:
. . . . before all these [Second Comings], there is to be a secret appearance
to selected members of his Church.
He will come in private to his prophet and to the apostles then living.
Those who have held keys and powers and authorities in all ages
from Adam to the present will also be present.
And further, all the faithful members of the Church then living
and all the faithful saints of all ages past will be present.
It will be the greatest congregation of faithful saints ever assembled on planet earth. And it will take place in Daviess County, Missouri,
at a place called Adam-ondi-Ahman.
(Elder Bruce R. McConkie, The Millennial Messiah, p. 578-579.
All my dear ones described above have had their temple work done, and I know they are among the faithful. What a great goal: to be worthy to reunite with them there, and it’s a hope we all have if we just remain faithful!
© 2022 Janet Kent – all rights reserved