pidrohfiles: October 2011

Red roses were her favorites,
Her name was also Rose,
And every year her husband sent them,
tied with pretty bows.

The year he died,
the roses were delivered to her door.
The card said, "Be my Valentine,"
like all the years before.

Each year he sent her roses,
and the note would always say,
"I love you even more this year,
than last year on this day.

My love for you will always grow,
with every passing year."
She knew this was the last time
that the roses would appear.

She thought, he ordered roses
in advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know,
that he would pass away.

He always liked things early,
way before the time.
Then if he got too busy,
everything would work out fine.

She trimmed the stems,
and placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase
beside the portrait of his smiling face.

She would sit for hours,
in her husband's favorite chair.
While staring at his picture,
and the roses sitting there.

A year went by,
and it was hard to live without her mate.
With loneliness and solitude,
that had become her fate.

Then that very hour,
as on Valentine's before,
The doorbell rang, and there were roses,
sitting by her door.

She brought the roses in,
and just looked at them in shock.
Then, she went to get the telephone,
to call the florist shop.

The owner answered, and she asked him,
if he would explain,
Why would someone do this to her,
causing her such pain?

"I know your husband passed away,
more than a year ago,"
The owner said, "I knew you'd call,
and you would want to know.

The flowers you received today,
were paid for in advance,
your husband always planned ahead,
he left nothing to chance.

There is a standing order,
that I have on file down here,
as he has paid, well in advance,
you'll get them every year.
There is also another thing,
that I think you should know,

He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago,
Then should I find out that he's no longer here,
That's the card...that should be sent to you the following year."

She thanked him and hung up the phone,
her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking, as she slowly
reached to get the card.

Inside the card, she saw that he
had written her a note.
Then, as she stared in total silence,
this is what he wrote...

"Hello my love, I know
it's been a year since I've been gone,
I hope it hasn't been too hard
for you to overcome.

I know it must be lonely,
and the pain is very real.
Or if it was the other way,
I know how I would feel.

The love we shared made everything
so beautiful in life,
I loved you more than words can say,
you were the perfect wife.

You were my friend and lover,
you fulfilled my every need.
I know it's only been a year,
but please try not to grieve.

I want you to be happy,
even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses
will be sent to you for years.

When you get these roses,
think of all the happiness,
that we had together,
and how both of us were blessed.

I have always loved you,
and you know I always will.
But my love, you must go on,
you have some living still.

Please... try to find happiness,
while living out your days.
I know it is not easy,
but I hope you find some ways.

The roses will come every year,
and they will only stop,
When your door's not answered,
when the florist stops to knock.

He will come five times that day,
in case you have gone out.
But after his last visit,
he will know without a doubt.

To take the roses to the place,
where I've instructed him.
And place them where we are,
together once again.

Sometimes in life, you find a special friend;
Someone who changes your life just by being part of it.
Someone who makes you laugh until you can't stop;
Someone who makes you believe that there really is good in the world.
Someone who convinces you that there really is an unlocked door just waiting for you to open it.
This is forever friendship.

-- Author Unknown

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Peter Allan C. Mariano

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A long time ago, a young, wealthy girl was getting ready for bed. She was saying her prayers when she heard a muffled crying coming through her window. A little frightened, she went over to the window and leaned out.

Another girl, who seemed to be about her age and homeless was standing in the alley by the rich girl's house. Her heart went out to the homeless girl, for it was the dead of winter, and the girl had no blanket, only old newspapers someone had thrown out.

The rich girl was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. She called to the other girl and said, "You there, come to my front door, please."

The homeless girl was so startled she could only manage to nod.

As quick as her legs could take her, the young girl ran down the hall to her mothers closet, and picked out an old quilt and a beat up pillow. She had to walk slower down to the front door as to not trip over the quilt which was hanging down, but she made it eventually. Dropping both the articles, she opened the door. Standing there was the homeless girl, looking quite scared.

The rich girl smiled warmly and handed both articles to the other girl. Her smile grew wider as she watched the true amazement and happiness alight upon the other girl's face. She went to bed incredibly satisfied.

In mid-morning the next day a knock came to the door. The rich girl flew to the door hoping that it was the other little girl there. She opened the large door and looked outside. It was the other little girl. Her face looked happy, and she smiled. "I suppose you want these back."

The rich little girl opened her mouth to say that she could keep them when another idea popped into her head. "No, I want them back."

The homeless girl's face fell. This was obviously not the answer she had hoped for. She reluctantly laid down the beat up things, and turned to leave when the rich girl yelled, "Wait! Stay right there."

She turned in time to see the rich girl running up the stairs and down a long corridor. Deciding whatever the rich little girl was doing wasn't worth waiting for she started to turn around and walk away. As her foot hit the first step, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder, turning she saw the rich little girl, thrusting a new blanket and pillow at her. "Have these." she said quietly.

These were her own personal belonging made of silk and down feathers.

As the two grew older they didn't see each other much, but they were never far from each other's minds. One day, the Rich girl, who was now a Rich woman got a telephone call from someone. A lawyer, saying that she was requested to see him.

When she arrived at the office, he told her what had happened. Forty years ago, when she was nine years old, she had helped a little girl in need. That grew into a middle-class woman with a husband and two children. She had recently died and left something for her in her will. "Though," the lawyer said, "it's the most peculiar thing. She left you a pillow and a blanket."

-- Author Unknown

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Peter Allan C. Mariano