Monday, January 17, 2011

Shades of Blue


Blue has never been my color. I prefer to wear shades of grey, black or tan, although they are usually offset by my blue jeans. Blue has never been a color that I use in decorating my home, as it doesn't do much for me.

So, why then, have I chosen to wear these blue "shades" all the time? I have nothing against the color mind you. Actually, I used to think of blue as being a very beautiful and calming color. Since my husbands death though, I seem to always view the world in different shades of blue.

I know that there are times when I purposefully take my shades off, and try to see the world in all it's technicolor splendor. And for short periods I can see remnants of the beauty that once was my life. Without my shades I seem to appreciate the fullness of life, yet for very short periods of time. Most of the time the colorful hues of life are too much for me to bear, so I quickly put my blue shades back on.

You see, I seem to be making a choice.

I know that this blue vision of the world started some years back. My world definitely took a somber turn the day that Michael was diagnosed with his brain tumor. From that day forward my life seemed to lose it's magical splendor, and I began to see it from a very different perspective. When Michael died the shades of blue became much darker, and my perspective began to feel quite clouded.

I'm beginning to think that I am just not ready to see the world as it truly can be, full of the richness and vibrancy of life. To see these beautiful colors is to admit that there is much out there yet for me to experience. To take off these shades would mean that I am willing to enjoy life with all the richness and texture that I have either been denied, or choose to deny myself.

I worry that I have become too familiar with seeing the world through blue colored glasses. It's what I am now comfortable with. In some ways it may have become a crutch for me. Do I want to be happy again? Am I ready to experience a life not viewed entirely through my grief? Am I becoming complacent? Have I become married to a life that is less than vibrant, that is rooted in dark and somber hues?

Yoko Meshi
I don't think I will ever again view my world through rose colored glasses, but perhaps by taking the chance, by removing my glasses of blue, I can once again see the world as it really can be, made of of many colors, with many experiences, and possibly with a piece of joy, and happiness, once again.


  1. Here is the thing, at least in my experience, *we* don't come back to life. It comes back to us. In it's own time.

    After my husband died I read an essay written by a widow and she wrote about the sound of her laughter. I can't remember the words, but the gist was that one year after her husband died she was at a party. At some point during the evening she heard a very strange sound. She heard herself laughing. My husband died 10 years ago this year of lung cancer and I still think of that essay often.

    Grief has a will of it's own. It took me a number of years to figure out how it was that I could not compel myself to love life. After how blessed I was/am that I, at least, got to LIVE. I felt very ashamed as that was all my husband wanted--to live. No money, no anything but life itself. These days I'm not too hard on myself when I find myself sinking into melancholia yet again. I know that does not dishonor his life. It's just my life is still coming back to me. All these years later.

  2. Dan, my husband also died from a brain tumour. Stage 4 glioblastoma. I know what you mean about life taking a sombre turn right from the day of diagnosis. It pretty much was a death sentence and I don't think I ever fully recovered. It's been 2 and 1/2 years since his death and I feel better but there are days when I am right back there on that horrible day when he had his seizure and was then diagnosed. It still seems surreal sometimes. I love your post because looking at the world through blue tinted glasses really describes how I feel much of the time as well. I will try to remove these glasses if you will. Good Luck!

  3. your post made me think of Don who really liked blue...of course when I thought of Don my gut started to hurt and my mind started closing in to focus on him...I seem to live in a world of two choices...depression when I hurt too much and guilt when I think I'm not hurting enough. I live, I laugh, I think, but something is missing...will always be missing

  4. Wow...your post sure hit home. When I think about living without him, it is more than I can handle sometimes. I think I have blue glasses also. I thankfully did not know Mike was going to die...I knew he was sick, but really did not think it was incurable. "It" was so many things that happened over a period of subtle as to not be taken seriously, but noticed. I don't know how you live with that kind of diagnosis you did. And for that long. I only now in the weeks before Mike died, we decided we had to have hope, and hope would see us through. Now those are the last of the rose colored glasses. I am still depressed at almost 21 months...I know I have to do something, I just don't know what. I guess I don't want to put forth "the work" everyone says I need to do. Why did I have to lose my soulmate, and now I have to "work" to feel better. Doesn't seem fair, does it?

    Sue G.