Three times now, I've tried to write a bit. Three times now, the page crashed and the bits were lost. They weren't enough to make me famous or anything, they just had real sentiments that I'm not sure I can ever express the same way. Paper and pen, you just scored a point.
This title....I Know Why. Maybe I should explain a little more. I don't know WHY. Who does, really? I'm closer to knowing stuff, because of my experience, but nobody really ever knows WHY. I should have stretched the title to say "I know why widows wear black". (wore? Right now I have on a blue t-shirt and white capris, so those days are kind of over.) I went out with some friends a few nights ago and it helped me to realize that an outward symbol of grief might not be creepy, and might actually be very helpful!
My main historical knowledge of "mourning" clothes comes from "Gone With the Wind" - when Scarlett most assuredly did NOT want to wear widow-black......and more recently, "Downton Abbey" - when Mary Crawley most assuredly did NOT want to wear black for mourning. I guess it wasn't the most popular thing to be seen in, at any point in history, therefore the demise of the custom.
You see, I think it helped everyone. I feel as if I'm walking around with a mark on my forehead. I feel this, but other people don't see it. If you know me, sure...you know what happened, and you understand if I hang my head for a minute. If you are a stranger, you can't tell that I've been through a great tragedy, an immense loss, and am right now suffering from deep, dark, sadness. You can't tell, because it doesn't often show. The outward appearance, the routine of life, the talking with people and friends that even involves laughter - who could tell? Matter of fact, I sometimes look around at strangers and wonder what deep, dark feeling they are carrying.
It's not deep and dark because anyone purposely hides it. My sadness is deep and dark because of the immensity of what happened. Losing my husband, my partner in all aspects of life, the person that loved me more than himself, has left such a deep hurt that I will never be the same. I don't try to hide that, but I also don't tell every stranger I see. It's a part of me, and if you know me now, or get to know me in the future, it just is, it just exists, it can't be changed.
Back when widows wore black, I think it demanded that others, even strangers, treat them a little more gently. This is all conjecture on my part, but I just imagine an old-fashioned grocery store; a widow dressed in black checking out, and everyone just speaking a little more softly, kindly......yeah, my imagination. I imagine that a teacher wearing black for mourning was respected, and all the children behaved beautifully, because they understood that sadness was somewhere in there. Crazy thoughts, huh?
So, if I don't know the WHY of life, I'm sorry. But trust me, I ask about it probably more than you do. But as far as the why of openly signifying mourning? I truly believe that must have been (most of the time) a gentle, soothing way of easing back into life while doing so with your new deep dark sadness; and it gave those around you the opportunity to show extra kindness and understanding, especially when you stumbled along the way.
The moral here is that we could be nicer. It's blithely said every day, especially now on social media, but it's true: "You never know what someone is going through". Be nice, everyone. Nice and kind beats all. That's all.
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