Dressed in Black

Today I'm dressed in black.

My feet have never felt so heavy stepping onto the freshly fallen snow.

Today I'm dressed in black.

A slide show of memories play in front of the church and my heart grows it's wings once more as the song "it's a wonderful world" plays.

Today I'm dressed in black.

Strangers, family, and friends alike embrace me and wish me condolences. I've never hugged so many people.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I'm pushed into a tight room as a pastor, who we don't even know, tells us how great my grandfather was...she didn't even call him by the correct name.

Today I'm dressed in black.

Hundreds of familiar, and unfamiliar heads turn to look at me as we "process" down the aisle to our vacant pews in the front row.

Today I'm dressed in black.

My head throbs as the organ emits a melodic sound and a stranger sings songs of meeting Jesus.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I clench the hem of my dress as I hear my sister croak and sniffle beside me.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I dab my eyes hopelessly trying to stop the incessant stream running down my face as my sister stands behind the microphone recounting memories and moments of the man with whom I've spent summers with since birth.

Today I'm dressed in black.

My body shakes and the tears stream down. Every part of me hurts. I try to breath deeply, buf my breaths get caught in my throat.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I hear my baby cousin sobbing, I see my grandmother quivering, and witness my mother kneeling over trying to support the immensity of the pain she is feeling. I've never felt a pain like this before.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I rush to the bathroom where the sobs overtake me. My body shakes. I cannot breath.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I begin dry heaving by the toilet. In complete loss of control of my thoughts, actions, and emotions.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I throw up all I have eaten for what seemed like the past week. My body shakes. I've never felt like this before.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I wipe the mascara off my cheeks and pinch my cheeks trying to bring some life back into my pale being.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I stare at my body in the mirror, but I’m absent. I’m not there.

Today I’m dressed in black.

I numbly shake the hands of the strangers, friends, and family who must leave. Never have I ever felt so alone while surrounded by so many people.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I stare at my plate of egg salad and brownies, the thought of putting them near my mouth evokes my gag reflex.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I push the salad around my plate, vacantly staring at the photos of him on my table.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I hold my Grandma’s hand and softly touch the box which enclosed my grandfather. Somehow that's suppose to make me feel better.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I regret all the times I could have seen him, all the times I could have said I love you that I didn't take advantage of.

Today I'm dressed in black.

I must accept that he is gone.

Today I'm dressed in black.

My Grandfather is gone.

Today I'm dressed in black.

My Grandfather is dead.

Today I'm dressed in black.

Today I'm dressed in black.