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I twirled the roses in my hands, watching as the once gold colored majestic cemetery gate stood weathered and worn, almost falling apart from years of neglect.

Roses. She had always loved them. Her garden used to be filled with hundreds of flowers, but roses dominated the landscape. She was obsessed with them, to the point where my grandmother had to tiptoe around her just to avoid disturbing them.

Why?

Well, It was a family thing, passed down from my grandmother. She, too, had been obsessed with roses. Her secret drawing room was filled with paintings of them, a testament to her love for the vibrant flower. She was even more obsessed than my mother.

When she was young, her own mother hadn't allowed her to have a garden because of the limited space in their yard. So, she had saved up her money and bought roses instead. I couldn't help but find it amusing. One day, she had spent an entire afternoon in the flower shop, helping the florist clean up in exchange for a single floribunda ro