Sorrow doesn't look good on me. It gives me ugly bags and dark rings under my eyes. It makes my skin all pasty. It's heavy, and after a few days it hurts my back and makes me slouch. I don't sleep well. I don't eat much.
So these days, it seems to surprise people a bit when they see me walking down the street feeling and looking a bit like this:
Some people cross to the other side of the street when the pass me. And some people are a bit like oh my gah. But throughout the past few weeks, the thing that continues to surprise isn't being stared at by little children or even the you look like shite morning greeting. It's the constant kindness that's been lavished on me.
The immediate influx of flowers and sympathy cards. The phone calls. The visits. The reluctance to let me do anything or go anywhere by myself, because you know how my twisted and nostalgic mind works. Even the condolences left here on Yellaphant and good vibes sent my way on Twitter have helped me raise my head each day.
Heck, even the neighbors whose names I still don't know, the mailman, and the trashmen have all expressed their compassion. And even though I still can't talk about it without choking up, I appreciate it.
I hope to be feeling a little bit less ugly every day, and a little bit more like my old Yellaphant self. And tonight, B finally comes home for good. So in the meantime, I just wanted to say thanks.