A rose by any other name…

At the funeral, last week, Hubster’s uncle gave the eulogy for Nunu. He had a large vase filled with roses sitting behind him, at the family’s grave side service. At the end, he invited all of us to come and take a rose, and to give it to a loved one. He emphasized that the flowers brought to one’s grave are not as meaningful as the flowers given in person.

Hubster sweated through the service in his black suit. He had to stand in the blinding sun for the whole thing. One of his cousins whispered, “If anyone needs something to drink, there’s a river of sweat streaming down my back.” I really didn’t think Hubster was paying attention at all. There were too many distractions.

So, I was totally floored when Hubster walked over to take a rose out of the vase. He was the only pall bearer that did so. The rest of the guys were itching to get out of the sun. Then, I watched him walk past his mother, and past his sisters, over to me. And he handed me a beautiful red rose.

“When Uncle Ron said to give this to someone I love, I immediately thought of you,” he said.

I melted into a puddle of butter, right then and there. Has your honey done something romantic for you lately? Do tell.