Black

I am getting dressed to go out and I see the brown pants I wore at the funeral service/viewing.

I can’t believe I wore brown that day. I should have been in black.

I haven't worn the pants since then and am not sure why I picked them that day. Today I realized as I stood in my room looking around just how much I missed my Mom that day. Not being in my right mind, I had no idea what I was wearing or doing or saying or anything.

Why didn’t I wear something in black. Why didn’t someone tell me. I know my sister in law was just as whacked out as I was. We were both in shock and grieving. My sister didn't see me till it was too late, and I don’t know what else to say. I wish I had worn the black that I should have had on. I am sad now that I didn’t. I don't know why it hit me just today, but I am told that little things will trigger all kinds of other things. I know what I wore is not really important, but now four months later, I wish I had worn the black pants.

My Mom would have talked to me and tried to get me centered. I know as the day went on I just spiralled further and further out of my mind. I was so whacked out I didn’t know which way I was turning. Trying to act right, but not really retaining anything. My Mom, well she would have helped. Heck, she would have asked me a few questions and then directed. But mostly she would have held my arm just above the elbow and guided me, saying ‘Betsy do you want to wear this? No, you don't want that .... here try this on"

Mom. Mom would have helped me. She is six and a half years gone now.

I stand in the middle of the room and cry a little. Not just for Jim, but because if I can't have him, I want my Mom to help me through this awful time. I miss them both.