She was a teenager. And now, she'll always be a teenager. A community came together this evening to share the bits and pieces we knew of her time with us. The picture that emerged is shadowed by shock at her leaving us. We were reluctant to talk of the troubles, the struggles. Instead, we spoke of huge hugs, the "million-watt smile," the talents not often shown, the insightful conversations. Someone mentioned the shooting star that was her life and how we were all lucky to have seen it.
I got the message earlier this week. There would be a funeral and it was my week for flower duty. My flower partner and I came to the same conclusion... a pastel color palate would not do. "Our" girlie was not the sort for pink. I started to search "punk flowers" and "goth flowers" to get ideas.
Music was a good subject of conversation for her and me. We each listened to music the other had never heard, and likely, would never hear! She liked death metal, I like bluegrass. We met somewhere in the middle with Celtic punk and had a great laugh when we discovered Red Hot Chilli Pipers.
Chili Peppers and Chilli Pipers - this was on my mind when I placed the flower order:
red roses, dark purple carnations, purple asters, purple statice, red alstromeria, red coxcomb (celosia), purple snapdragons, purple stock, fern, pittisporum and... 1 bunch of chili peppers.
Alas, the wholesaler was out of the chili peppers. I smiled, she would know I tried.
So today, I was privileged to design funeral flowers, deep red and purple flowers. How I wish they'd been wedding flowers. How I wish we'd shared the goth flower conversation. I am blessed to be in the group of people who loved her, people who will share the memory of that fleeting, sparkling, marvelous, impossible-to-hold-or-slow-down shooting star.
