WHAT'S YOUR COLOR?

 A few weeks ago, Hendrix created a bookmark for me.  It was a picture of me (loved the stick-figure figure--I'm glad she sees me that way) and I was blue.  Yes, blue hair, blue clothes, blue stick body.  I thought this was because she knows blue is my favorite color, but then I wondered, "Do I look blue to her?"
        On Tuesday I had a dark, dark blue day.  I made it to school, but I was so sad that I couldn't stop crying.  My sadness was so large that I couldn't get on top of it.  I hadn't had a day like that for six weeks or so.  So I came home and had a day of crying like I hadn't had in a while.  Wednesday was better and when I talked to my first hour seniors about my sad day, this time I had someone to share tears with.  And then I felt better.  I really haven't talk to my students about how it feels to grieve the loss of my son.  They have been so kind and protective of me, that I felt it really hadn't been appropriate.  However, Wednesday I needed to tell them about my sad days.  Second hour was a little better, but still I had tears. During the next two periods I talked a little more about my life outside of school and how exhausting grief is.  They were understanding about my life and how it was different.
     So this weekend I decided I was going to work on my color.  What color do I want to be?  I haven't worn many colors since June 7th--black, white, gray, brown.  Then I bought a turquoise blue sweater.  A little color did make me feel better.  Thursday, as I was getting ready for school, I pulled out my red boots.  I hadn't worn them for a year, mainly because they looked scruffy and I didn't have red polish.  So, Thursday morning I polished my red boots and went to school.  I can't tell you how good I felt wearing those red boots.  Maybe I'm moving out of my blue-ness.
     As I examine my colors, I think about the colors of the Bible.  There is purple for royalty.  White symbolizes purity.  Red represents the blood spilled on the cross.  Streets of heaven are paved in gold.  But today, on this gloomy Sunday, I think of the rainbow--God's promise.  I know the rainbow symbolizes that God will never bring on a catastrophic flood that will cover the world, but for me, the rainbow symbolizes hope.  Hope for fewer really sad days.  Hope for a future in heaven.  Hope for the day I see my son again.
     I'm thinking I'm still blue, but I'm working on it.  I bought a fuchsia pink shirt this weekend--it is a bit blinding, but it is a happy color.  As I remember the day Hendrix asked me what I thought Andrew was wearing in heaven, I told her I saw him in a t-shirt and basketball shorts.  The t-shirt is white and the shorts are white.  However, he is also wearing black socks and a pair of athletic shoes that are some other color--definitely not white, or at least, not all white.  My twentieth century fashion sense thinks that black socks worn with shorts is just so wrong.  But I know he is happy, so that makes me happy.  I just wish that happy boy was with me. 
~Andrew's Mom