Earlier this year my fiance lost his grandmother, who everyone called Nonna. It was hard on him, but nowhere near as hard as it was on his grandfather, Papa, who had been married to her for 63 years. I only knew Nonna for the last couple years, but she welcomed me into her family with open arms. Her health had been bad for the past decade or so, but when it was her time to go, it was a quick passing. Every year Nonna would plant a few roses, and her favorite were the peach roses. While I was getting plants for my garden, I got a rose for in Papa's yard in her memory. I plan on making a wooden plaque for the base of the rose bush as well.