Grief is a strange country. Perhaps you find yourself relocated there now.  

Since my mom died on October 11 I’ve been living in two worlds: the here and now and some other place that is less familiar. My experiences of grief is at times otherworldly. This is not  always bad thing, in fact, at times it’s interesting. 

After a lifetime of thinking about clothes and my appearance, I don’t quite recognize myself. I  wonder who put my “look” together. Who chose these well fitting clothes? Thank you, whoever you are. Look how perfectly my burgundy ball cap goes with my lipstick. How pleasant. Oh,  and my nail polish matches. Whoever did this (some other me) was talented, and I appreciate her efforts. Even my body looks different as if belonging to someone else. I know, this all sounds weird. Or maybe not if you’ve been through something life altering and for a while you viewed your world from a blurry distance.  

We can always notice. Two days after my mom’s passing I was picking out flowers and reached for blooms in her colors. Not just her warm palette instead of my cool one, but an intricate combinations of green, gold and dark red. For days I craved looking at the hues that made up the rich tapestry of her world. I didn’t want to wear those colors, instead longed for the deep mystery of black. I’m sorry, black, for not understanding your true place in our emotional expression until now. 

I wore black every day until my mom’s burial. The next day, remarkably, I wanted to wear white.  

I’m paying attention to my color choices the way one pays attention to cravings for certain foods. I’m curious about what I’ll select from the color menu today. The morning after the  election I chose pink, for kindness, self-care and female solidarity. I might be coming into a blue-green phase to harmonize with the timelessness of the ocean, a force difficult to destroy.  Floral patterns and delicately woven textures are calling now too.  

Those of us that supported the possibilities of a Harris presidency are grieving. While death is a natural part of life, I fear that the death of a hopeful dream and the frightening reality ahead will send women diving inward. As you seek sources of comfort, remember your wardrobe and all the forms of expression available to you. Matching your earrings and scarf to your outfit can be comforting. If you can’t focus on that, allow a dim awareness of your color choices to seep into your day. Notice what you are choosing, even if you don’t know why. What resonates? Will you choose black for mourning, pink for solidarity or white for hope? Green or gold as a way to connect to the beauty of the earth or a blue as soft as the afternoon sky? Perhaps a fiery red or orange will give you courage in the days ahead.  

When you care for your appearance as a form of artistic expression, like any creative endeavor  it expands your field of awareness. You notice the world around you, the beauty of nature and  the exquisite people that inhabit it.

Gratitude blossoms for all we are given. And best of all,  we’re still in this together.  

I’ll leave you with a heartwarming message I received from the kind woman that helped me  donate many of my mom’s clothes: 

“I wanted to let you know that the truckload of donations has gone to such grateful places…  The scarves I took out and gave to the Suzy Katz cancer research foundation in Santa Cruz,  for women who have lost their hair… They would love to have any hats that you decide to  toss… The woman at the farmworkers distribution almost cried when I brought her all these  bags, especially the warm jackets. And two women have taken almost all the magazines for  soul collage workshops…

So I know that your mom is smiling down on all this today… Sending out positive and worth, in a world that surely needs it.