
Why do we give flowers to the dead?
Well, I think I know.
I used to work with a woman named Annie: tiny, nearing retirement but undiminished.
Croatian, born in the then-Yugoslavia, Annie fell in love with, and married, an American GI. Her family disowned her for it. Annie gave up much for love and America.
Not long after they married, her husband asked when her birthday was. She told him, surprised that he should want to know. In Croatia, no one celebrates birthdays. The day to celebrate is your Name Day, the feast day of the saint that you were named for.
So when, a few days before Samhain, her husband burst through the door with an armful of chrysanthemums and Happy Birthday on his lips, she was both dumbfounded and horrified.