By Dixie I am running out of grey and black clothes.
More than a week after my Daddy died, I wore the same two or three outfits. Dark navy sweater over jeans, or oversized grey or black shirt over the same jeans. No jewelry except the same small diamond stud earrings I forgot to take out the day he died. I slept and showered in those earrings. I can’t remember if I wore make up but I do remember using Burts Bees chapstick instead of lipstick.
Before my Daddy died, I mostly wore brighter colors, patterns, lots of matchy-matchy accessories and red or at least dark pink lipstick. Like most every woman out there concerned about the size of her thighs, I had plenty of black pants. But I always wore something with a color or a pattern up top.
But for now I am still wearing dark clothes. I found some more in the back of my closet. I still have on the same earrings. I did put on real lipstick today but clothes in any sort of color seem…inappropriate.
I remember seeing Gone With the Wind many years ago and ladies who had lost loved ones wore dark clothes–mourning clothes–for a full year. They didn’t wear makeup or jewelry except for a wedding band and they weren’t expected to go out in public. There is something…right…about that. Maybe a year is excessive, but some time period, some expected time period, would be a relief.
It’s hard to start doing expected activities and act like everything is OK.
Some people look towards me sideways with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. They usually avoid my eyes. I understand. It is hard to know what to say. I have said plenty of stupid things in an attempt to say…something appropriate to other people who are grieving.
Some people come up and quietly hug me and say nice platitudes like “If there is anything I can do…” I feel grateful they are aware my Poppy has died and they acknowledge I am sad. When I see them come towards me with their arms spreading around me, I also feel afraid I will cry when they do. I struggle to control my emotions and slam a wall up quickly saying “Thank you, I will let you know”. But I know I won’t.
Other people don’t know anything has happened. They just wonder if I am having a bad day or maybe they don’t wonder anything at all. They may notice me or they may not. I feel sad they never knew Poppy. I feel sad that life is going on around me like he never was here.
So, I have my own expected period of mourning. There isn’t an expected end though. It will end whenever I find myself looking beyond the dark clothes in the back of my closet to the brighter clothes in the front. Or putting on lipstick everyday. Or wearing jewelry.
Or maybe it won’t actually end. Maybe the dark clothes will come back from time to time.
Maybe I have to learn to wear bright colors with the dark.