Orange

Recently I spent a week in pretty intense physical pain. Recovery from my ‘minor’ surgery was considerably rougher than I expected and required regular doses of heafty pain killers. After four days of drug induced sleep and hazy consciousness I got stubborn (read: stupid) and refused to take my meds. In my defense I had some good(ish) reasons. I’m absolutely terrified of finding some form of relief by artificial means. I can’t explain how much this scares me. The pain is so absolute; if I found even a slight lift through some substance would I be able to let it go? I couldn’t feel anything through the haze and in scared me, bad.

So, I completely stopped, way too early. I spent the entire day in pain, a lot of pain. Finally, that evening I gave in. I took my meds, twenty minutes later muscles I hadn’t realized were tensed relaxed into the couch underneath me. I certainly hadn’t grasped that every muscle in my body was coiled until the pain reliever took effect and everything began to release. I almost cried with relief.

Today has been like that, an uncoiling of emotions I hadn’t realized were even tensed. I’ve been so overcome with pain, so steeped in the black depths of the tar that I didn’t even realize how much I truly hurt. I couldn’t even comprehend its height and width. I just lay curled in a ball barely breathing.

A friend sent me a message yesterday… just to tell me she loves me and she never forgets. I stared at my phone completely astonished. Not that she wrote me but that I had forgotten that I have friends. I’ve felt so wholly enclosed by the black the past few days I literally forgot that I am not alone. I felt a small crack in the darkness. Then my man took our little family out to eat and we laughed… another crack. I cuddled my little boy and he told me all about everything in his world. It’s a very exciting place you know. A friend invited us to eat dinner with her family, more laughter, less black… more cracks. Then my man and I curled together on the couch and talked, and talked, and talked.

In the past three months, since a Damon sized hole was rent from our hearts, we haven’t spoken much. Our language has primarily been touch. There just aren’t words, so we say very little. There have been days when the only sentences uttered in the walls of this house were “I miss him” and “I love you.” Nothing else really mattered.

But last night we talked, words poured out of us. I cried and cried, talked and listened. Something remarkable happened. Instead of my mind fracturing and falling to pieces as I had felt it was doing only hours before I watched as with each word, each affirmation, each tender touch cracks in the black exploded like fireworks across a fourth of July sky. Such. Indescribable. Relief.

Today has been orange.

A friend I haven’t seen in ten years held a memorial for my baby. I don’t know what all went into the planning but I know it was no small feat. More friends attended and likely helped plan and pay for the tree that was planted and the stone that now bears Damon’s name. That’s a big deal. It’s a huge deal. I’m not alone.

I just might survive. Today has been orange.

My little family lay on my bed most of the afternoon playing with toy dinosaurs and making up silly names. I didn’t want to run away. I didn’t have to fake it. It was good. Today has been orange.

I’ll take it.