I noticed it as I was passing the lake—a lone red rose with a message on it, lying close to the water’s edge. I picked it up and read the lines out of sheer curiosity.

Could someone just toss this into the lake? My wheelchair no longer allows me to reach the lakeside where my late husband’s ashes remain. I have to drive back up tonight because the gates are locked. Many thanks, x

My chest constricted. I checked around, but the person who had left it had already left.

Feeling the weight of what I was going to do, I gripped the rose a bit more tightly. This was more than simply a flower; it was a delicate bloom that represented longing, pain, and love.

I moved to the water’s edge, inhaled deeply, and then let it go. Continues…