Rejoice, for I have returned. Repent, for you did not miss me.
There has been a death in my family. Naturally, it has me thinking about clothes. Miss Plumcake did a very helpful post on funeral attire, and I’ve made my purchases.
Lane Bryant Long Sleeve Cable Knit Sweater Dress, in black. I’m a bit nervous about the quality, the length of the sleeves, and the shape—which is kind of a lot to be nervous about. But it was inexpensive, I’ve been wanting a sweater dress, and it should be comfortable. The Celebration is indoors, but it’s still Michigan in February.
Clarks UN.Glare Black Croc Print shoes. I sprained my foot last week, so none of my current black dress shoes were going to work. I don’t usually do shiny black or animal print, but these shoes made me smile, and I can’t see anybody being insulted by them.
I’m remembering the last death in my immediate family, and how it affected my mood and choices and general outlook for months on end. In some ways, I envy my family in Michigan. They have to clean houses and do paperwork and make phone calls, but I sometimes wonder if the administration of death is an important part of the grieving process.
I mean, in my day job, I do exactly that. I process applications for death benefits, and in nearly four years on the job, I’ve had only one widow break down and cry on the phone with me—yesterday, the same day Grandpa Bob died. For the most part, even when I’m asking intrusive questions, the widows handle it with grace.
Whereas I, while grieving for my grandmother: was miserable during an exotic vacation; promptly dumped the best guy I have ever dated; wasted a summer, made bad choices resulting in bodily injury; got involved in a messy, emotionally self-destructive long distance relationship; and didn’t follow-through on my plans to study for the GRE, delaying my education even further. Do I think all of that happened because grandma died? No, no, of course not.
But I do know that my grief and general malaise intermingled to the point that, despite having horses back in my life for the first time in seven years and having a writing critique group to support my career goals, I was not getting much joy out of my life.
I don’t know that there’s much to be done about feeling cut-off from my family. Facebook helps, but the reality is, Michigan is a long way from DC, and I can’t move boxes or run errands while living here. Without specific obligations to my family, I think I need something to DO in order to grieve.
I’m going into
half-assed, demi-Victorian mourning. For? I don’t know. A month? As soon as the clothes I ordered arrive? I’ll try to wear all black at first, and will open it up to grey, lavender, and purple later on.
It’s a plan, at least.