Dressed In Black and in a Black Mood

So two of my students asked me the other day, "Mrs. ___, is your favorite color black?" In a socratic way, I answered back with a question: "Why do you ask?" They told me that all they ever see me wear, with little exception, is black. Again, a la Socrates, I query, "So you're noticing a pattern, is that it?" Then they tried a different tact . . . "Are you emo, Mrs. ___?" I rolled my eyes. "Ah, no," I replied. Not wanting to tell them the REAL reason I wear black this year, I opted for the following "cover" . . . that even though as junior high students, I know that a school uniform (even the idea of it) is a fate they do not want to consider, my "uniform" is my black outfits. (Which are very cute, by the way.)

The last thing I want to do in the morning, I told them, is agonize over what I want to wear. I have two kids and myself to get ready in the morning. I don't want to spend the extra time and coordinate. So, to that end, I bought Eileen Fisher dresses and skirts to wear from Nordstrom before school started. I found a few extra things on sale at EileenFisher.com and some black leggings from Banana Republic. Everything is washable; nothing has to be dry cleaned. (Which I am also getting sick of.) And everything matches with the black pairs of Eccos that I have, Mary-Janes (two pairs, different styles), and a pair of sandals. Okay, so yeah, Eileen Fisher is more expensive than Ann Taylor Loft or regular Ann Taylor, but its also more comfortable and the money I'm saving in dry cleaning . . . well, it was added in advance onto the price of the clothes. And I love them. They're loose and drape my body so well. Very flattering. And, to be honest, there's room to grow in them should DH and I conceive, as we're going to try to do as soon as I get the okay. So for hiding a bump and keeping things on the down-low for as long as I can (instead of blabbing to the world as soon as I found out in past pregnancies) . . . anyways, her clothes are good for that. I'm gun shy and don't want to tell anyone (if I don't have to) until after that 20 week ultrasound, if I can hold out until then. [Even though I know that even that is no guarantee of anything either.]

But there's that other reason I wear black: mourning. It is, in my way, a means of honoring my lost son and acknowledging his loss in a public way without talking about it. (No one who knows about our loss wants to bring it up to me anyway.) As I put on my (awesome) black outfits in the morning, I think of him, though. It is my way of keeping his presence with me throughout my day and all its tasks. My colleagues and others I encounter don't know the specific reason for my monotonous hue choice this year, and maybe if they asked, I'd tell them the same "excuse" I told my students. It is, after all, partly true--about the dry cleaning and stuff. But it is also true that I miss my baby. And maybe it is very old fashioned and Scarlett O'Hara of me to dress in black as they did in once past to mourn a passing, but I like the idea of it. There's comfort in rituals, and this just happens to be one I like right now. And it isn't just my clothes. I even, at my last salon visit, had my stylist dye my hair black. (Okay, it's also got funky blond chunky streaks put in it, too, but you get the idea.) When I pass his Angel Day in the spring, after a full year has passed, then maybe I'll don my colorful clothes again and embrace the world. (Or maybe I'll shuck those because -- damn it -- they're the dry clean ones, and buy the colorful Eileen Fisher line instead of the black one.)

But for right now, I just need to sit in my cave -- go out and do what I need to do to function in the world -- but I need to sit at home and grieve. I know I need to live, too, but I need to grieve. So I go out into the world and live and take care of all of my responsibilities, which include being a mother to my two living children and a wife to my DH, but I do it while keeping the spirit of my son ever present in my mind -- call me "two face" if you will. At the very least, I look chic while doing all of this.

Did I also mention I'm in purposeful denial? I love it there. I don't have to feel anything. But that's for another post . . .