Marcello's Eulogy

The daisies were always her favorite. Nobody understood why. Daisies are such plain-looking flowers, and she was quite the opposite of that. Perhaps it was the gentleness of the flower. She had little plainness in her life, so maybe these flowers were the simplicity she was looking for. Perhaps it was her nostalgia for them. Daisies seem to be the first drawing every little girl doodles on their schoolwork; although that doesn't make much sense. She was never an artist, she left that part to me. 

It always confused me. I'm not a very good artist, I loved to paint something here and there, but I had never really perfected it. She loved everything I made, something I wasn't used to. She’d sit behind me, watching as I spent hours on a simple art piece; at the end she’d stare bright-eyed at my amateur painting, raving about how beautiful it was. Marilyn was the only woman who truly believed in me. Who truly loved me. And I threw it all away.

I often think about that moment. 4:37 on a Tuesday. Everything should’ve worked out. We should’ve closed the doors, locking them away for the night. We’ve always had our disagreements, but this was different. She must’ve had some alcohol, maybe even smoked a bit. We were screaming, throwing supplies around. At the peak of the argument, I looked over. I saw her favorite of my paintings. A bouquet of daisies. I painted it for her the week before her birthday. She was ecstatic, that day was probably the happiest she’s been in years.

Maybe it’s good that she’s gone. I got her away from me, the only thing that brought her down. Even at her own damnd funeral, I can’t stop talking about myself! …You know, to write this I had to google "Definition of eulogy." I am the most prized funeral director in the world; yet I can't write a simple eulogy without talking about how sad I am. 

Sigh.

Marilyn was an amazing woman. She loved everyone around her with her whole heart. She dedicated her life to making everyone’s lives happier. Something I could never do. Me. A selfish, obsessive damn asshole had to mess up her future. She could’ve married someone who could.. would.. actually care for her. I’m sorry, Ms. Albright. I’m sorry for taking your daughter away from you. She didn’t deserve to become ‘Marilyn Fernandez.’ She’s better than that.

This is a joke. I’m a joke. Maybe if you all treated her better she wouldn’t have ended up with me. You may blame this whole thing onto me, but just know.. You all started this. 

Thank you all for coming, and for the flowers. Although they’re all roses, so I guess none of you really listened to her either. Even at her funeral you couldn’t care enough to get her favorites. Nonetheless, she would’ve liked them.

Thank you. And again, I am so terribly sorry.