Chrysanthemums. I've always found them to be the most beautiful of flowers. It's funny, how something so alluring could be so sad and allegorical. In my home country, chysanthemums were a symbol of lamentations and grief. I'm fascinated by metaphors, and indirect meanings for things. I know the meaning of so many flowers because of this.
His favorites were anenomes. For those who don't know, they are a type of poppy. When asked, he'd always simply say that it was because of his love of the story of Adonis. He himself was an Adonis, and if I am truly honest with myself, I thought of him that way since we met. It was strange, seeing as I am not usually the kind of person to do that. And he was like a poppy, the symbol of sleep. XHe was always so sleepy.
He said, that though I liked chrysanthemums, I was much more like hyacinth flowers, and hence, Hyacinthus. A beautiful young man, whom had many others fighting for his affection, and was killed by a jealous man who loved one of his admirers. He told me not to get hurt by a discus, in his odd, tired way. It was hard to even tell if he was kidding, he always said everything so seriously. Like myself. A match made in heaven, I liked to think to myself. A perfect, fated match.
But that's all in the past. Now I sit silently, with him, surrounded by my used-to-be favorite blooms. I came to see him, bearing poppies, anemones. He is like an anemone, the symbol of death.
Sadik was so kind to me though the whole thing. I think he misses him, as well. They were close. He was Feliciano's uncle, too, though slightly younger then himself. I never understood that. Feliciano and him always said that Grandpa, or Papa in his case, Vargas was an odd promiscuous man. I decided not to pry from there. But it was nice of both of them to provide support. I legitimately broke down about half way through my speech, and everyone there seemed so surprised. I was so full of this creeping despair that I couldn't even keep my usually composed facade.
My dear Adonis, struck down not by a god, or a boar, but a metal death trap I helped design. It was my fault, for allowing myself to get close to him. I keep distant for a reason, because I can't take the pain of loss. I can't take this. I can't. I can't.
They really are ugly flowers, chrysanthemums.