Roses and Words.

Hugs.

She believed in hugs. Not one-armed-barely-there embraces. No, she believed in hugs that conveyed all the emotions she encompassed.

Compassion. Strength. Hope. And naturally, love.

If she could save the world one hug at a time she would have. At any rate, she tried.

She hugged homeless beggars, fearless of what diseases or intentions they might have carried; she hugged her neighbours; she hugged her single mother. She was all about the sweetest touches.

She was fresh air, green grass and red roses. She was spring itself. She was all those pretty little things you had to slow down to realise.

She didn’t believe in watches. Those little hands that so greatly determined every human activity, they didn’t exist in her world. Why waste moments by looking at how much time you had left?

Make your difference whilst you could.

The more jaded and cynical bystanders believed she lived wearing rose tinted glasses; that she had created her own place and refused to see the basic truths of life. That evil did in fact exist. That the bad guys got away with it more often than not. That good rarely, if ever, conquered.

It was true. She looked at life differently than most. Life was a wonderful piano piece waiting for you to strike the next key. You write your own music she would tell me.

If you had met her, you would love her. You may have found her odd. Her love for other people was not a typical trait one encountered everyday.

But oh! If you could have seen her. So divine, the perfect rose a person wishes to receive at least once in their lives.

But she wasn’t always a world saver. She wasn’t always life’s sweetheart. She was normal. Like you. Like me.

Her world did revolve around her own thoughts. Wealth. Power. Strength. Beauty. These too were her dreams. These words that may taint her now they once existed even in her smiles. But that was a long time ago, so long ago that the mind forgets.

Because there came a day, in her still-too-young life, that her world stopped.

Cancer.

What a lovely word. A word that has the ability to stop your world. A word that defines the rest of your life.

Too far advanced.

But you remember the times when there were so many words that your life consisted of.

There’s nothing we can do.

But there should be! Humanity has accomplished so much. Surely, there must be something!

I’m so sorry.

And that was it.

Her life was decided from that point. Oh she cried. She threatened the Gods. She swore all the foul words (even making up some as she went along). But the tears dried out. The Gods didn’t answer. And she ran out of words to scream.

And then she decided, if the world was going to end so soon, she needed to, at the very least be remembered.

She needed to make a difference. She wanted to be someone’s saviour, my saviour.

Remembered.

Like the roses you had received from your first sweetheart, because even when those died, their essence remained somewhere deep within us.

Like fresh roses that were gently set on her grave every new day.

Yes, she would be remembered.