flowers and grief

One thing that keeps popping into my head and I can't get it out when I think about all this shit is my sister saying that there were a lot of people and a lot of flowers at the funeral. Coroas de flores (how to say it in English? Wreaths of flowers, I guess) showing how much my father was loved. Flowers. Part of the coffin, part of death itself. An amalgamation with the soulless body transforming it into something else. A new shape, a new form. A creature without blood or expression, but instead, it has flowers. Are you still human? What makes us human? Form or mind? I wasn't there to see it, but I can't stop imagining it. Tons of flowers forming a halo around you. Cotton in the nose, eyes closed, face neutral, without color, using makeup to go back to being my father. How is it? Are you in there? Why do we decorate it with so many flowers? Maybe we're just trying to get through this unbearable moment. Maybe we are just trying to make it better, beautiful, with a sweet, calmer smell surrounding us. A bit of sweetness for these relentless, sticky, salty tears. I heard a song by Titãs and Marisa Monte. I haven't heard this song in a long time. How long? I have no idea, but a few days ago it appeared on my random playlist. A song about death. An omen of death. He likes it. He liked it, He liked it. Past tense is the right time to talk about him now. The song goes on to say “as flores tem cheiro de morte” (flowers smell like death). Is it true? I feel like death smells like a chemist's or a dentist's office. I just remember seeing flowers as synonymous with beauty and life. Flowers in temples, at the altar. Flowers to show love and kindness. Flowers in a beautiful vase in the center of the table to bring the place to life. Maybe that's exactly why. A funeral. So many flowers in every single inch possible. Around the lifeless body. It overwhelms the eyes by remembering that it is the same as in art. Where flowers are, there is still life.