Wearing colors

For almost two years, my wardrobe consisted of dark and plain hues.  Grays, whites, blacks.  A few months ago, I decided to wear pastel.  Mostly green and old rose tops.  Nothing loud.   

 

I welcomed 2007 with a closet clearing exercise and a paradigm shift.  

 

I decided to keep or give away some items especially those that I have not worn over the last year. 

 

But I also did another thing. 

 

I took out those items that I kept when my father passed away.  The red blouse, the pink shirt, the orange shirt…  In the process, I wondered if I could wear them again.  I would have worn them earlier but I wanted to respect the sensitivities of some people particularly my relatives. 

 

In the end, I returned most of them in the storage bin but placed my favorite pink shirt in a hanger. 

 

With all due respect to the preferences of people who have lost loved ones, surely mourning is more than just wearing dark colors.  Nothing can express grief and sadness. 

 

As I face this year, I have decided to wear my ‘happy’ colors again. 

 

As I face this year, I prefer to remember my parents in a different way. 

 

Usually, thoughts of them would bring me to the last days that I saw them alive.  Their last days in the hospital.  I recall the contraptions that sustained their lives.  I remember the smell. I remember the weary look in our faces.  The faraway look in my mother’s days.  The heavy,  ragged and frequent breathing of my dad.  I remember them all.  And so I end up with tears in eyes.

 

This year, I will choose to remember their lives.  Not their death.  I will choose to remember the memories of their younger days, not just the last few months that they lived and breathed.  After all, they are more than just the sickness that took their lives. 

 

I looked at my pink shirt that I placed in a hanger. 

 

One ‘happy’ shirt at a time.