Funerals and flowers

"Some lives are like that. They do not die. They do not die in ways that go beyond their thoughts continuing to influence people, their example continuing to inspire people, their memory continuing to cling to the minds of kin and friends. They do not die in ways not unlike those who are visited daily in their resting places by those who loved them indelibly deeply, who are kept company, who are caressed with words. They do not die because they remain a throbbing reality. They do not die because the detonation of the gigantic solidity of their lives scatters their atoms into the interstices of space, filling it, suffusing it, making themselves part of it. They do not die because they are, in every sense, still there.

Cory is one of them. What can one say?

It is a miracle.'

Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer

I'm one of those who can't help crying while watching the funeral of the late president Cory Aquino. It's amazing how one person can be so much loved by many. It's amazing and kinda ironic that while sometime during her presidency, while she was alive a lot has been said against her also, but, in the end they all agreed how such a good person she is. It's really amazing, well, i really thought she was an extraordinary person.

The poignant outpouring of love and support even just when she's dead and all was really something. It kinda made me rethink of when I die someday.. You see i have decided a long time ago that I don't want to be remembered. i have done an awful lot of misdeeds, so what's there to be remembered for? I- if not worth remembering... i often fantasize of just puffing out of thin air, and no one bothering to see nor notice. i would not have a need for it anyway...I'm dead and all...

But, somewhere inside me, i kinda feel and liked to be wanted, to at least be remembered, if only for little things which I might perhaps have done right...Well, I'm sure it isn't that many or big...

while and although the Holden Caufield in me stillsay:

Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

The Catcher in the Rye
Holden Caulfield in Chapter 20