Layers

It has been a month since I have written anything, probably a lifetime record for me. I have never not been able to write, so this has been a new experience. Thank you to all who have called or emailed to check on me. I appreciate you beyond words.

I have to admit, it has been a rough haul since the first anniversary of Colby's passing. There were so many thoughts and feelings and emotions swirling through my body and I couldn't grasp on to any of them. Some days I couldn't get out of bed. Some days I absolutely could not function.

Over time, what slowly began to emerge from that swirling mass was a visible layer of grief. Think of your body as a vibrant container of color. Maybe today your right knee is a bright blue and your head is a vivid yellow and your right arm is a brilliant orange. Every body part has a beautiful color and together all those colors make up you.

Now place a transparent layer of dark gray over each one of those colors. You can still see the yellow and blue and orange, but they are muted. This is the new you, more subdued, slower, heavier, grayer. The horror begins when you realize that this layer of gray will be with you forever. In years to come the gray may become lighter, it may become more transparent, but it will always be there. It is an entwined, integral part of who you are. Forever.

I hate the color gray.