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White Roses for Barrick Kelly [A Tale of Risum]
Barrick Kelly died at the age of 88 that day. It was a sunny summer day, when he died peacefully in his sleep and his granddaughter found him. He was a man who would be greatly missed, for he was much beloved by the townsfolk.
His funeral was even more beautiful than his wedding. Everything was covered in the white roses that he cared for, as if they were sending him off themselves... Truly, it was a sight that would have brought the man himself to tears.
I shed tears for him as well, as I watched from a distance. He and I had been friends once, long ago. "Drinking Buddies", was often what he would call us, though he was the one that drank, and I merely offered advice.
The death of his wife was what had drove him to drink. I, on the other hand, was concerned about this sensitive and lonely individual, and so I could not bring myself to keep my distance. For he cried when he drank, and a grown man crying in the corner, like the little boy I once knew him to be...
I talked with him when he drank, and made sure that he got home safely, until one night, he stopped and stared at white rosebush in the corner of someone's yard. It was as if something struck him in that moment, and it stayed with him, even when the sun rose the next day. It was as if a passion had stolen over him, one such as none had ever seen before.
White roses were the town of Risum's flower, and they were grown whenever possible, because I liked them. However, the knowledge of horticulture and landscape was almost nonexistent in this little town, so I had been maintaining it for quite some time. Until Barrick Kelly had his epiphany, and everything changed for the better.
After that night, he began to drink less and less as his newfound passion for studying plants took hold of him. He avidly read any of the literature available, and afterwards would go outside himself to study the real thing, but he always held a particular interest in white roses. It was a passion that made him smile again, and yet I still watched over him just the same.
Soon his drinking days were behind him, as was any memory of his "drinking buddy", but the sorrow of his love's passing still ate at him. For though the town, and especially his own yard, were filled with rose more and more as the years went by, he never married another woman. It was something I understood well, and though I would only see him in passing, it still filled my heart with joy to see the man's efforts bear fruit and his family surrounding him every day.
The day that they buried next to his wife him remained sunny and warm, only until after the mourners had made it safely home. Once the first raindrop hit the soft, brown earth, it became a torrent where the rain fell like a waterfall, and the wind howled and screamed for three days straight! Then, when the clouds had cleared, and the sun shone bright as if nothing had occurred, only then did the townsfolk venture outside their homes.
Many would visit the graveyard that day, to pay respect to the dead, but none would be struck with less awe by the sight of the graves of the Kelly couple. For atop their graves was a magnificently large rosebush, with white roses shining almost as brightly as the stars! This was my gift to them, and a blessing for the next life.
© Britt Clark
His funeral was even more beautiful than his wedding. Everything was covered in the white roses that he cared for, as if they were sending him off themselves... Truly, it was a sight that would have brought the man himself to tears.
I shed tears for him as well, as I watched from a distance. He and I had been friends once, long ago. "Drinking Buddies", was often what he would call us, though he was the one that drank, and I merely offered advice.
The death of his wife was what had drove him to drink. I, on the other hand, was concerned about this sensitive and lonely individual, and so I could not bring myself to keep my distance. For he cried when he drank, and a grown man crying in the corner, like the little boy I once knew him to be...
I talked with him when he drank, and made sure that he got home safely, until one night, he stopped and stared at white rosebush in the corner of someone's yard. It was as if something struck him in that moment, and it stayed with him, even when the sun rose the next day. It was as if a passion had stolen over him, one such as none had ever seen before.
White roses were the town of Risum's flower, and they were grown whenever possible, because I liked them. However, the knowledge of horticulture and landscape was almost nonexistent in this little town, so I had been maintaining it for quite some time. Until Barrick Kelly had his epiphany, and everything changed for the better.
After that night, he began to drink less and less as his newfound passion for studying plants took hold of him. He avidly read any of the literature available, and afterwards would go outside himself to study the real thing, but he always held a particular interest in white roses. It was a passion that made him smile again, and yet I still watched over him just the same.
Soon his drinking days were behind him, as was any memory of his "drinking buddy", but the sorrow of his love's passing still ate at him. For though the town, and especially his own yard, were filled with rose more and more as the years went by, he never married another woman. It was something I understood well, and though I would only see him in passing, it still filled my heart with joy to see the man's efforts bear fruit and his family surrounding him every day.
The day that they buried next to his wife him remained sunny and warm, only until after the mourners had made it safely home. Once the first raindrop hit the soft, brown earth, it became a torrent where the rain fell like a waterfall, and the wind howled and screamed for three days straight! Then, when the clouds had cleared, and the sun shone bright as if nothing had occurred, only then did the townsfolk venture outside their homes.
Many would visit the graveyard that day, to pay respect to the dead, but none would be struck with less awe by the sight of the graves of the Kelly couple. For atop their graves was a magnificently large rosebush, with white roses shining almost as brightly as the stars! This was my gift to them, and a blessing for the next life.
© Britt Clark
