Nov. 3rd- the days of dark- Chris Ritchey
“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”― William Shakespeare
The dark days of November, I have lived these months of dying over and over again. I am ripped to my very soul- a soul that is scarred and cannot heal. Like every mother who has lost, I still search for the reasons- why? Knowing full well there is no logic, bar the one, your body could not fight the insidious obscenity of the cancer that invaded your being. You fought with every last breath and I fight every moment this overwhelming place I am left with called life.
There are moments of color that break through, love for what is left of my family, a child’s smile, laughter, innocence and anger bring some respite through the grey world of this grief.
I found a small watercolor, among others – probably the experiment in color wash for some assignment at CIA. I look at the piece and saw the greens of hope – washed- tinged with darkness of grey, the splash of a muted red – the passion tempered with black- and then just faintly in the wash of white purity – a semblence of a face, just out of reach – a face and wish for which I search the heavens.
The dying days are the hardest because they remind me of the hope and laughter, your life lost. I am awash with grey ……….
Entry filed under: Chris Ritchey, death, grief, Love, men of substance, Mothers. Tags: Chris Ritchey, Christopher D. Ritchey, christopher ritchey lorain, death, grief, hodgkins lymphoma, Love, mothers and sons, obscenity of cancer.