While a death is always a time of loss, let's not forget that it is also a horticultural opportunity. When we go to sleep in the earth, the earth benefits, and erelong new life bursts forth. (OK, a bunch of roses will never replace uncle Fred, but you have to see the bigger picture.)
Whoever this skull's former owner was, we think he or she would have been pleased to know that, before being skewered on its jewelled obsidian* stem and having a removeable steel drinking-vessel embedded into its brainpan, it clearly spent some time nurturing these blood-red roses with its wholesome mulch.
* Not actually obsidian, just black. Obsidian is really expensive.