Essay: White daisies on my mind (Requiem for an Alzheimer patient)

The Brain – is wider than the Sky – For – put them side by side – The one the other will contain With ease – and You – beside – The Brain is deeper than the sea – For – hold them – Blue to Blue – The one the other will absorb – As Sponges – Buckets – do – The Brain is just the weight of God – For – Heft them – Pound for Pound – And they will differ – if they do – As Syllable from Sound – —Emily Dickinson The coffin was light lavender on the outside, layered with hundreds of hand-held brushstrokes. It was a plaintive tone, yet imposing, as one might envision the well-worn purple hues of a Roman emperor's robe, easily commanding the attention of passersby. Looking at the empty container, it reminded me of Vasily Kandinsky's comment, in Concerning the Spiritual in Art , that if the color purple were a musical sound, it would be an English horn or perhaps “the deep notes of wood instruments such as the bassoon.” This particular timbre was more like an oboe, mellifluous and soulful, several octaves above the dark purple of a bassoon. On the outside lid, there were many fine lines made by the individual bristles, barely discernible as one examined the smooth wooden surface depending on the angle of the light, giving the overall illusion of a uniform and linear grain. It was as if the knots and imperfections of the wood had been combed out like a child's hair, the tangles gradually loosening with every brush stroke, each one a mother's gentle embrace. Festoons of white daisies were painted on the length and ends, within the recessed panels underlying the long handles of the body, making the purple …