Appearances

I have been thinking about how I look! Recently, several people have said to me, “you’re looking well”, “you’ve lost weight”, “you’re looking trim”, “ you're looking very svelte”, “you look tanned”, etc. Don’t get me wrong, it’s always nice to get compliments, but at the moment it’s rather a double-edged sword. If someone tells me I look well, and many people have, the dialogue that goes on in my brain is something like this: “they’re right, I know I look well, but how can I possibly look well when I feel so shattered on the inside; when my world has fallen apart; when I’m getting so little sleep, etc.” or “perhaps, I’m not doing this grief thing right, how can I look so well when B is dead” (it feels like I’m betraying him). I’m pleased I’ve lost weight, it’s a good thing, but again it’s a double-edged sword. In the past it has been a struggle to lose weight, but this time I didn’t even have to try, so how should I reply? Usually, I just say ‘thank you’, but sometimes I do say “it’s because I’m grieving”, but perhaps that not fair on the person offering the compliment. It can be a bit of a conversation stopper! Perhaps it’s just as well that my appearance belies how I feel, so people can’t see what’s going on inside…

This then prompted me to think about how I dress. I haven’t been dressing any differently since B died except, before the weather turned warmer, I had been wearing a belt of his to hold my jeans up! I haven’t been wearing or not wearing any particular colour, although, when it was colder, I was wearing bright, cheerful socks, as seeing them could lift my mood for a moment or two. I find that bright colours can cheer me up. 

I recently saw something about Victorian rituals regarding mourning dress. Widows were expected to wear full mourning dress for two years and then, if I understand correctly, there was what was called half-mourning, where the clothes went from grey to mauve to white. Queen Victoria famously wore mourning clothes for what was half her life, after Prince Albert died, although I notice our present Queen does not seem to be wearing any mourning clothes. I think wearing black would just depress me, although as I reflect upon it, it does seem to have one big advantage, in that it tells everyone else that you are mourning and, despite any outward appearances, you are ‘not yourself’. Your grief is being witnessed simply because of the clothes you are wearing and, to me at least, that does seem helpful. Just because I look good / well / healthy doesn’t mean I’m not grieving! I don’t know what I am going to feel like in six or eighteen months’ time, but I guess that most people will have forgotten that I am a fairly new widow. If I was a Victorian, people would be reminded simply because of the clothes I was wearing. I wouldn’t have to explain, my clothes would do it for me.

And then, there’s the rings! In the last week, I have seen several discussions as to whether widows should continue, or not, to wear their wedding rings. I have always worn my engagement ring and wedding ring, and since our 5th wedding anniversary my eternity ring as well. In fact, I can only get them off when my hand is cold enough, so this is usually only in winter when I might take them off to clean them. In addition to these, I now also wear B’s wedding ring on my index finger on my right hand, as it happens it fits perfectly! It’s a small, but important part of him that I can keep close. Shall I always wear them? I don’t know, but at the moment that is what feels right. And that was the conclusion of those online discussions, do what feels right. Megan Devine mentions, what she calls, the vomit metric, and I really like this (perhaps it’s the nurse in me!); that is, if something makes you feel sick, don’t do it. Removing my rings would make me feel sick, so for the time being they are staying where they are.

As an aside, I still haven’t got used to that term ‘widow’. I know that I am one now, but somehow it doesn’t seem right to be the right label, although I’m not sure why. Maybe the picture I see of a widow is that of an older woman with grey hair, somewhere near the end of her own life (ok, I’m getting on a bit, but I don’t feel old, and my hair hasn’t turned grey yet). This is stupid, I know, as I have looked after enough younger women whose husbands have died to know that this isn’t true. Perhaps, it’s just the wrongness of it. I am aware, though, that I do need some sort of label. I don’t feel single. I feel married… it’s just there is now only one of me… so how can I be married? It goes back to that questionnaire I talked about in a previous post, it would hurt (did hurt) to tick single, but instinctively I know that they (whoever they were) didn’t want me to tick married. So, I need to be a widow!