Spicy Dragons & Dinosaurs

Sarah and Andy's wedding was the last of three "summer" weddings that we -- all of us, including David -- has planned to attend. Julia and I bought pretty wedding clothes, and although we did not make all three of the weddings, we wore those party clothes three times. Yesterday, as I put on my purple dress for what I think is the last time this year, I was pulled to each time I put it on, where I was, what I was thinking, where grief was.

When I tried on the dress in April or May, I was so ready for a summer of parties. David was getting stronger and we were planning to travel and party well. We were being reborn -- the stress of waiting for that heart and then those first tough weeks were drawing to a close. We were going to have our next 20 or 30 years together. We were making plans. A purple party dress seemed to be perfect.

I don't often dress to please anyone but myself, but I admit to trying to look good for David. And as it happened, it was too late. Tell me how sad that is. And we never made it to our first wedding, Chris and Sophie's wedding.

Wearing that dress to the memorial service, I see now, that grief was like a confusing, heavy, scratchy blanket thrown over my shoulders and head. I was drowning. I was in some sort of prolonged shock.

When I wore the dress for Alice and Jonathan's wedding, grief was beginning to become a part of me. I wore it like that dress, like a slip that covered everything, that was close to the surface. It had a feel, a texture. It was real.

Yesterday, grief was inside. It is part of the very fabric of my spirit. It is woven into every action and thought. It is still moving to my core in some way, but it is closer than ever.

Maybe this is some kind of cheesy metaphor, but it feels real today. right now.