Monochrome Living

It was my first visit with this middle-aged woman.  She had called a few days before asking me to come by and visit with her.  Her husband had died a few weeks before.    She was just beginning to feel the loneliness that came with losing her life’s companion of the last 30 years.  We sat in a quiet Starbuck’s as she shared her story.

She shared her story with a flat voice and near expressionless face.  It was as if she had turned off her emotions (except for the occasional tear that leaked from her eyes.)  She spoke of lonely meals, sleeping till noon, and letting the phone ring and ring.  She told of not wanting to go outside or seeing anyone.  And then she said the most remarkable thing.  “Its’ like I have suddenly become color blind.  My life is like an old black and white movie.  There are no colors.” 

I have encountered this before in the people I have accompanied through their grief.  I, too, experienced this when my mother died.  Such monochrome living speaks to the inner losses we experience throughout our time in that shadowed valley.  All color disappears as the light grows dim. 

As the daylight fades so do the colors in our world.  As grief sets in, or world begins to grow more and more pale.  Within a few weeks, when everyone else has returned to their lives, we are left alone and in the darkness of sadness and a myriad of other emotions.  We find ourselves in a deep twilight of monochrome living.  There are only shades of gray between the moments of utter darkness. 

When we are plunged into the darkness of grief, we are often disoriented and lost.  We may stumble around, tripping over the furniture of our lives.  It becomes even worse when others start rearranging our lives for us.  We become fearful or angry or weary.  Many, like this woman, simply want to sit in the darkness and grieve.

Conversely, at the dawning of a new day, the color begins to return.  As the Eastern sky begins to show the first signs of sunlight the dark shadows begin to yield to ever growing gray shoals of light.   As that light rises, faint pastels seem to tinge the edges of those gray forms.  Eventually, the full glory of the new day begins to appear as the as the dawning light reaches higher on the horizon.

It is important to remember that the sun will rise on grief.  In time, the color will return.  It will likely be different, but the light will return.

At first the shapes of friends and family as well as the familiar surroundings of home will begin to appear.   Then lighter shades of pastel will bring the first hints of color and vitality to our world.  Gradually the deeper shades of color will appear, giving not just shape and form but genuine color to our world. 

As one who cares for this person, we do not need to open the window shades and flood their lives with light.  The darkness can be a place for healing.   They may need to sit in darkness, but they do not have to sit in that darkness alone.  Our presence may allay their fears and remind them that they are not completely alone.  Your very presence may be a sign of hope in a very dark and scary world.

Be present to them without giving advice or encouraging them to “get over it.”  Allow them the time they need for the shadows to lift and the color to return.  Living in a monochrome world of grief requires patience, reassurance, and a gentle voice of encouragement and concern. Be that voice and help them to live as best they can until they see the first light at the dawn of a new day.

Blessings,

Bob