I knelt down in the soft dirt right next to Elias and picked up a small metal hand trowel.

I dug a wide round hole in the dark earth while Elias rested his weathered hands on his knees.

“He asked me to plant these cuttings a month before he got too sick to walk down the stairs,” Elias whispered.

“We’re doing it now,” I said.

Elias reached down and carefully lifted the prickly green rose bush straight out of the plastic pot.

He held the heavy root ball securely in both hands.