Reflecting on the Potential Blessings of Wearing Black

I remember when I was a kid, reading about people wearing black for a year after a close relative died. All black seemed terribly gloomy, and a year seemed way too long.

But now that I'm approaching the anniversary of my aunt's death, I look back and see that I haven't been up to as much as I expected during the whole of the last year. Writing, music, and so many other things that I love have been harder to start and harder to sustain. Stuff slips my mind when it shouldn't.

Admittedly, for me, being stuck in black for the whole year would have made things worse. I've always loved bright colors and fun clothes, and those have been a comfort to me. But I wonder, if people had known I wasn't myself, might some of the rough spots been smoothed over a bit by other people offering a quiet bit of extra kindness? Maybe there was a practical reason for those mourning clothes, after all.

Not that I want to wear all that black, mind you. Give my my purple and green and rainbow dresses!