Man Brings White Roses to Wife’s Grave, Returns Home and Sees the Same Flowers in the Kitchen Vase — Story of the Day

A recent widower brings white roses to his wife's grave, but when he gets home, there is an identical bouquet there brought by a mysterious, handsome man.

When Mary Bellamy died, everyone who knew her family was stunned by her husband Harold's reaction. Harold had never been a particularly loving or dedicated husband, but he became a distraught and devoted widower.

He cried a river of tears, sobbed, prayed, and ranted at God for taking away the most perfect woman He'd ever put on this earth. His 17-year-old daughter, Meredith, and his son, David, 25, were far from impressed. They had been witnesses to his cruelty to Mary for too long.

If Harold and Mary's children thought he was playing a part, they soon learned it was a part he intended to continue playing, probably for the rest of his life. The man became a church-goer, and every Sunday after mass, he visited his wife's grave.

That particular Sunday, he got her a bouquet of perfect ivory roses with the palest blush of pink at the very heart of every petal. He discarded the roses he'd bought the week before and washed the marble gravestone.

He traced Mary's name tenderly and whispered, "Beloved wife and mother...Always." Harold wiped away a stray tear, said a prayer for Mary, then headed for home where a revelation was waiting for him.

"Meredith!" he called, and walked into the kitchen where he found his daughter carefully arranging a bouquet of the exact same ivory blush roses he'd bought for Mary!

"Where did you get those?" he asked.

"Hello dad," Meredith said. "An old friend of mom's came around after you left. He'd come to visit her and he was so shocked to learn she was gone...The poor man broke down."

Treat the people you love tenderly all their days, because they may be short.

"Friend?" asked Harold sharply. "What friend? Your mom didn't have any friends!"

Meredith's eyes blazed. "What you mean is, you wouldn't let her have any friends! Well, she did! This man was devastated. He wanted to know where she was buried so I told him."

"You told some man where your mom is?" screamed Harold angrily.

"She's dead, dad!" Meredith screamed right back. "You can let go of your stupid jealousy and your suspicion! SHE'S DEAD!" But Harold wasn't listening. He jumped in his car and drove back to the cemetery.

He ran along the carefully manicured paths until he came to Mary's grave, and sure enough, there was a man standing there. Harold took two steps and laid a heavy hand on the man's shoulder.

"Who are you?" he screamed. "And what are you to my wife?"

The man turned and brushed Harold's hand from his shoulder. He was tall and handsome with a refined demeanor and around Harold's age. He looked Harold in the eye and answered, "I presume you're Mary's husband. I was the man who loved her."

"You were her lover?" raged Harold, his fists bunched. "I knew she was a tramp..."

The man said quietly, "You say another word about Mary and I will knock you out, you slimy little bully! No, I wasn't Mary's lover, but I wanted to be. I wanted to be her husband."

"I'm her husband!" Harold cried. "I'm the one who loved her!"

"Do you know how I met Mary?" the man asked. "I was a doctor at the ER when she came in with a broken arm after you threw her down the stairs. Then I saw all the bruises. I knew what you were, I wanted her to go to the police for help."

"You tried to turn my wife against me..." Harold said in an injured voice.

"Yes," the man said calmly. "By the second time I saw her, I was already in love with her. She was pregnant -- it was her first baby -- but I told her I'd marry her, raise the baby as my own. Do you know what she said?"

"No," whispered Harold.

"She said," said the man with sadness in his voice. "She said that you'd be destroyed if she left. That she was the only person who'd ever loved you, and if she abandoned you... So I left, I stayed away twenty-five years, until today."

Harold was weeping. Not his usual showy sonorous sobs, he wept as if his heart was being torn out of its place in his chest -- and that was what it felt like. But the man wasn't finished with him.

"I loved her," he said softly. "I would have given her everything, do anything to make her happy. You didn't deserve how she loved you -- and you don't know how much I wish she'd have loved me that way."

Harold was staring at the man and images were flashing before his eyes: every rough gesture, every blow, every cruel word he'd said to Mary now bore witness against him.

It would have taken very little to make her happy, he knew that -- just a few words and a smile -- but instead, he had tainted her days with his mean spirit, his cruelty.

As the man who'd loved his wife watched, Harold fell to his knees in front of her grave and truly grieved for her, and for the way he'd poisoned and wasted both their lives. He kept saying over and over, "I love you, Mary, I love you, please forgive me."

There was no answer, and maybe no one was listening, but a tiny golden butterfly fluttered down and blessed his shoulder with a kiss. Was that a blessing from a loving spirit or the gift of forgiveness?

What can we learn from this story?

• Treat the people you love tenderly all their days, because they may be short. Harold was jealous and possessive of Mary and his insecurity made him cruel. He only realized how much he loved her once she was gone.
• Only by admitting our errors and mending our ways can we become better human beings. Harold got a second chance to become the good loving father his children needed.

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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a 60-year-old man who is shocked when a perfect stranger walks up to him in a restaurant and calls him a cheater.

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