Everyone Walked Right Past It. I Didn’t.
June 11, 2025
Source: Key Industries
I was in an op shop, the kind that reeks of old wood and mystery. One shelf had a glossy box in the clamshell style, nestled between old DVDs and half-used candles. Red velvet lining. Two things in the shape of roses, curled up in there like tiny museum exhibits.
I assumed they were decorative soaps. Those were the unused-by-grandmas display-only ones.
But they weren’t.
The Rose That Wasn’t a Soap
I picked one up. Not soft. Not hollow. Heavier than expected. Google Images pointed me toward a funeral-supply site, Key Industries. There it was — same box, same roses.
They were coffin ornaments. I’d discovered a long-neglected coffin accessory.
Funeral Equipment Hiding in Plain View as Decor
They were intended to be fastened to the lid of a coffin. The box was a sample for families selecting funeral enhancements.
What appeared to be a makeup case was used in a burial ritual. The roses represented love, memory or a final honor.
Unexpected Sense of Purpose
I kept looking at the rose. Decisive, weighty, carefully crafted. It was nestled like something sacred inside the velvet-lined case.
It didn’t feel creepy, it felt deliberate. Somebody created this to have emotional heft. They weren’t mass-produced decorations. They were also part of saying goodbye.
How Did It End Up Here?
Perhaps it was from an out-of-business funeral home or excess stock. Lost in translation? Now it was just something else on a shelf in an op shop worth $10.
But the story was still there, in the way the rose was shaped, the polish of the wood, the red velvet.
I Didn’t Buy It, but I Won’t Forget It
I left it behind. Not that it scared me — just that it felt like something that should have had a place. A role. A purpose.
That little rose box, a seemingly forgotten detail of a coffin’s accompaniments, told a whispered story of grief, care and memory. And sometimes that’s the last thing we expect to find.