Father's Day 2007 Essay Contest First Prize Winner

Our contest winner was written by Joanne Weck. She wins a $75 gift voucher courtesy Gifts n Ideas, a specialist in International Gift Delivery. Congratulations to Joanne and thank you to all who took the time to share with us their wonderful stories of Father's Day.

A Day With Dad

My Mother loved flowers, especially roses. On her birthday, their wedding anniversary, and Mother's Day my father planted a new rose bush so that in summer her garden was lush with blooms of every color. Red was always her favorite and those predominated. Only the heritage roses with sweet fragrant blossoms would do.

When I was old enough to help, I accompanied him on his mission, watching carefully as he dug up the earth, settled in the burlap-bound root ball helping him to pack the dirt and fertilize the new plant while he explained to me how to nurture the delicate bush. He pointed out the first bush he had planted on their very first anniversary and the last one he had added on her most recent birthday. He spoke more during these times than at any other time and I could feel the love he felt for her in how he handled the implements and tended to the new plant.

After I moved away from home my mother never failed to mention the latest addition to her rose garden during our phone conversations. “Your father planted the most beautiful American Beauties for my birthday she would say”, sounding as surprised as if it were the first time he had done so. She begged me to come home soon to admire the additions to her flower garden, but I was busy living my life and traveling the world.

On Mother's Day of this year I finally came home. Daddy insisted that he show me the latest flowers in my mother's garden. Together we admired the tight buds that would unfurl by the time summer arrived. “We'll be able to pick a bouquet for her birthday,” he assured me. I turned away from him so that he wouldn't see the tears that were trickling down my cheeks. This birthday the bouquet would be placed not on the center of the dining table but on her gravestone in the nearby cemetery. He took my hand and squeezed it tightly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You remember how your mom loved her roses,” he said.