There are mornings like this one where the sun is shining brightly, the birds are tweeting their melodic songs, and the air is fresh with the scent of spring. It’s a morning of beauty and rejuvenation. Yet, my heart and my soul are especially grey.
These grey days seem to come less frequently than the used to. And the black days show up even less.
As a grieving mother, there are just those moments that will forever alter the tone of the rest of your life. There will always be a bit of melancholy now.
But the grey days happen less often than they did a year ago. The black days seem fairly infrequent.
Today is a grey day, or maybe it will end up being black, I’m unsure. I think, perhaps, it started in bed last night. It was one of those anxious sorts of bedtimes. I felt worried as I finally drifted off to sleep. Thankfully, I was so exhausted that sleep came fairly quickly even with the anxiety. After waking, I drove to the gym. My drive-to-the-gym time has often been my alone-let-the-tears-fall time over the last 3.5 years. But, honestly, lately, it hasn’t happened as often. Today, the tears were flowing on my 12 minute drive.
I wiped my face as I walked into the check-in desk and proceeded to join the turbo kick class. There seemed to be a weight on me today. I couldn’t’ move as quickly as the others. My chest felt heavy; I was coughing. (allergies are bad right now which doesn’t help). I ended up leaving the class fifteen minutes early.
Driving home from the gym is normally a pleasant experience. The endorphins that are rushing through my system tend to improve my mood and I will sing along with whatever song is playing on the radio. This wasn’t one of those normal days. Instead, the grey mood from earlier remained. Instead of listening to music, I yelled at God and asked him why.
Why did he take my son? Why can’t he give me a sign? Does he even care?
So it’s a grey day today. And as I said, these days don’t happen as often as they did. It just happens to be that way today. And I’ll work through it like I always do. My other children will need me to fix lunch, help them with school, drive them to activities. My jobs with our co-op will require me to get stuff ready for tomorrow’s end-of-year program. My husband will need me to fix dinner. My book will eventually call my name and take me to the other world of Westeros.
And hopefully, tomorrow the grey will have lifted