About a week and a half ago I started a “Writing Your Grief” class. Every morning the class gets a prompt to write about…then we post and are able to read each other’s posts and comment on them. Today the post was about “melancholy”…which was completely fitting because I have been feeling that way A LOT lately…probably also depressed, but somehow “melancholy” sounds more poetic.

Here’s what I wrote today:

“Melancholy suits you like an old comfy hoodie.  You know the one.  The cuffs on the sleeves are worn.  You think twice about wearing it out of the house, but still do because it reminds you of when you met your husband 27 years ago in college.  What did you even have to worry about back then?

Melancholy suits you like the zip-up that is two sizes too big that your husband bought on your last family vacation at your favorite resort Up North.  He had gained so much weight from the steroids the oncologist put him on that he was barely recognizable as the man you married anymore. You still loved him more than anything in the world.  He loved that zip-up.  It was nice and roomy and cozy.  He wore it all the time.  You wish it still carried some of his scent.

Melancholy suits you like the white Calvin Klein dress shirt that your husband wore when he was Best Man at his twin brother’s wedding.  He danced with you for the last time that night.  He spent the majority of the day in his wheelchair, but when “your song” came on he got up, held you in his arms, and swayed with you one last time.  He didn’t even realize you were the only ones dancing and everyone was watching with tears in their eyes.  He died 11 days later.  You’re wearing that shirt right now.

Melancholy has no need for fancy “going out” clothes.  You have pushed those to the back of the closet.  No need for dresses, slacks, sweaters, fancy lingerie.  None of that fits you anymore.  There is only melancholy.”

I miss him.

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