The rose

There was a white dried rose in my wardrobe. It's been there for over a year and it was one of the roses of Jacopo's funeral flowers. It would have been in my wardrobe forever and year after year I would've seen it  fade.
John and I decided to give the River the rose instead. We wanted to let the last material object go. Now I have nothing else than my memories. My boy lives only in my heart and it is all right.
We didn't plan to do this symbolic act today but I was glad we did, because today last year it was my due date. Jacopo had different plans.
One year has gone and John and I decided that it is today that it feels right to remember our son, not the day he died, not the day he was born asleep but the day which brought us joy, we looked forward for months, we made the countdown for. The day he had to be born.