Grief - Shallow and Deep

On my journey of learning to embrace grief, I find myself thinking of a really large, Olympic-sized swimming pool (this could be because this has been an unusually hot day today so I am wishing I really was in a pool). There are some days when I am willing to dive in and go deep and explore the depths of grief in my heart; but there are other days when I just can't allow myself to go there, so I stay in the shallow end.

This post is going to be a "shallow" post. I'm not sure I am ready to write a "deep" post yet. I am also going to try and keep it shorter. I know I keep saying this, but as you can tell, I have a lot to say.

Today is the one year anniversary of Jacob's death. I've been dreading this day, but I really don't know why. There was nothing harder about this day than the other 364 days since June 14th, 2009. I didn't miss him any less yesterday than I did today. I guess it's because we made it through the year of all the "firsts": first Christmas, first birthday, etc.

I've been thinking about how in a different time, women would wear black for at least a year after they lost a spouse or child. Families would often hang a wreath with a black bow for a period of time to show their community that they were in mourning. In a way, I kind of like this tradition because it reminds those around you that your life has been shaken and rocked to its' core. This past year, I was able to go to work each day and teach my class; however, so much of my thought processes and coping skills had been shaken, that just making simple decisions was just too overwhelming sometimes. While I looked the same on the outside, I was not the same on the inside, emotionally and mentally. Perhaps, if I had been dressed in black from head to toe or wore a sign around me that said, "Caution, woman in mourning," than people around me would know that the person they knew from before Jacob's death was not the same person now. This is not a criticism of anybody - family, friends, coworkers, etc. We just live in a culture that wants things fixed quickly and this can't be fixed.

But then, I started thinking about if our culture adopted the "black-only while mourning" dress code - and by the way, it is my favorite color to wear, but really, all the time? - anyway, if this was all I wore, then eventually this would lead to some problems such as:

• ,Who determines the proper amount of time to wear black?
• What if someone needed less than or more than a year for mourning?
• If you wear all black, can you accessorize with color? After all, what would I do with all my Vera Bradley bags my kids have given me?
• If we put a black-ribboned wreath on the door, do I use my favorite square grapevine wreath or the one that has the wrought-iron designs?
• If Richard is ready to take down the wreath and I'm not, who gets to decide?

So, to finish up this very shallow post, I guess I am glad that our culture does not require people in mourning to wear black. I want people around me to know that my heart has this huge hole in it and part of it will never heal.  I will never be the person I was, nor do I want to be. When you love someone and then they're gone, to assume that you can be the same person is to minimize the impact they had on your life.

Okay, I'm starting to have to tread water here and I'm going back to the shallow end.

Good night.