incredible symbolic interpretation

    The pot was green. Green enough to match almost identically, the vibrant stem supporting its inflamed roof of leaves red enough to match the blood shed from a religious sacrifice. Alongside the pot sat, worn and over-used, a book full of symbolism. A book full of questions and self-interpreted answers.
    Almost daily I would witness my withering grandmother frantically turn the torn discolored pages of her bible. Her strong dedication to religion pressed upon me, above all else, incredible symbolic interpretation.
As a watched her inch her way towards the end, a wave of sadness swallowed me. The only tool useful enough to help fight the current was the single rose she had decided to plant not long after she grew sick. While by daily her illness strengthened the lively rose beside the arm rest of her broken in recliner raced towards its prime.
  “When one life is lost, another is found” would be my symbolic interpretation of the rose and the woman who through loneliness created a strong loyalty to one another. The flower was more than envied by myself as it would become only half of the duo, betrayed at the rotting hand of death. It would become the closest living remain of my lost elder.
Days passed and the sickness worsened still for the old lady while the rose represented its opposite. How my fingers itched to posses this lonesome plant was unimaginable. As the day would mask itself in darkness the long nights I laid awake over-thinking, and the flower would steadily remove its disguise revealing itself as the inevitable cure to the pain soon to be felt.
    My grandmother passed and I raced to the rose for security, comfort and ownership. I peered into the room once inhabited by the beautiful woman who remained my idolization even in death. My eyes darted to the small wooden table upon which the cure spent its existence.
    Waves began crashing repeatedly as I was forced to accept the loss of the only cure as well. The sudden in-explainable death of the single rose immediately led me to a conclusion to the hypothesis of life, regardless to its simplicity.
As the future will remain a mystery, the unexpected should be prepared for. It is unknown whether tomorrow exists for me or any of us, and due to the symbolic sudden death of the rose I craved so greatly, I have gained the preparation for it to not. It is with this preparation that I live life in the manner I feel most comfortable. Unsure of tomorrows’ existence I live today as if it is certain, that tomorrow is only a privilege with the capabilities of being stripped from my possession at any time.