I have this very intense obsession with roses. Not for their romantic meaning but for another reason I couldn't figure out completely. Every time I would see a rose I had to stop and admire it. Every single one is unique in its own way. I loved looking at them and I always got this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew they were beautiful and meant love and beauty, but there was a side that made me think of things that were depressing and I couldn't figure out why. Until one day I remembered a memory that was lodged very far in the back of my mind. When I was very young, probably 3 or 4 my parents took me to a cemetery. I remember it was sunny outside with just enough wind for it to feel chilly. We came to a grave that had a small ground headstone, and written on the stone after we pulled the weeds away was the name Christopher Gibb. It was the brother I never met. My parents had a baby boy before I was born who died a few days after his birth. The umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck as he was being born and he suffocated in the birth canal. It was a devastating lose for my parents. All I can remember standing there was my entire family crying and holding each other while the wind swept around us. Before we left my mother placed a single red rose on his grave.
My obsession with roses isn't just about my brother's death, since I didn't even know who he was or what he would become, but that he never got a chance at life. He was taken away before he could even experience his first day in the world and see the sun or feel the wind on his face, or be free to run around and play; all the joys I had when I was little and still get to experience to this day. The rose isn't just a memory to me but a reminder that life can be full of surprises and can sometimes end too soon for others. This experience really showed me that life is short and its best to enjoy what you can in life and live it to the fullest so nothing is lost or forgotten. I keep his memory alive by living my life the best I can and go to his grave whenever I can to visit.
It can be weird going to a grave of a brother I never even knew but I feel a connection to him. I can't describe what it is or how it feels just that I know its there and I'm going to enjoy life for the both of us. I feel bad that he never got the chance to feel and live like I get to, but I know that somehow he is happy for me. I'm grateful for my life and want to live it out the best I can because remembering this memory has helped me to better understand life and live in this world the best I can.