In a garden of red roses, she was a white one and her whiteness was even more pronounced for being singular in all the redness around her.
Yet, she did not derive her beauty from the striking difference of hers but it was of deeper material. For unlike her friends in the garden, who thought that after a period of blossoming, they all will die, she knew that before withering away, she must bloom!
Bloom,she must but not in a routine manner but like a princess, so that even for a second, but the universe must stop and admire her.
And it did.
For all the artists passing the garden, painted her, all the writers penned down classics on her and oh the poems…..
Yet, they were not about her bloom only, rather they were odes to her death!
This is why white roses are presented at the funerals, not because they symbolize death but because they honour it.
So you see children (and adults), when we live well, we die even better and in doing so, we live forever.