I’m wearing black for forty days.
I don’t feel like wearing color even after the funeral is
over,
And I have said my last goodbye.
I keep wearing black.
Every morning,
I open my walk-in closet and select my next black dress to
wear at work.
Then the next black blouse.
Then the next black shirt.
Then the next black skirt.
Then the next pair of black pants.
Until I have exhausted all my black outfits.
Now I understand why they wear black when someone dear to them
has departed.
It’s not a social convention.
It’s not meant to display your pain to the rest of the
world.
It simply reflects how you feel when you process your
loss.
Once I’m done with the black section of my wardrobe, I switch
to grey.
My next grey dress.
Then the next grey blouse.
Then the next grey shirt.
Then the next grey skirt.
Then the next pair of grey pants.
Until I exhausted all my grey outfits.
I am not ready to wear color just yet.
I make a slow transition from black to color by wearing
grey.
I give myself time to heal.
Until I am ready to make peace with my loss and wear color
again.
~~~~~~~~~~
From my book of poetry Sunset in Toronto, page
95.
