Monday, February 14, 2011

All Dressed in Red.

Hackett Designer Menswear - Tartan Pyjamas in Red

It's Monday night, Valentine's Day night, I'm all dressed in red, and no where to go.

Today was a very busy day at work. I spent the morning filling out documents, and entering data on the computer. My afternoon was spent meeting with families in their homes. And while the day was moving along fairly fast, my mind seemed occupied with other thoughts, and I never really felt appropriately focused on what I was doing.

It wasn't until moving along in very slow traffic at the end of the day that I realized how sad I was feeling. Lately I have either been more removed from my feelings, or leaning toward the more peaceful side. I don't ever really know what I am feeling, or thinking, as everything in my life still feels a bit complicated, and cloudy at best. Today, in traffic, I began to visualize Michael on a good day. I was feeling his smile, his touch, and his humor. It all felt so good, and so familiar. Then just as quickly, I felt stabbed in the heart with the reality of him no longer being on this earth.

It all just didn't make sense to my heart. My thinking self is always a realist, but I suppose my heart isn't. It was that feeling of "this can't be." How can there no longer be a Michael Lowrie? He can he be permanently out of my life?

These same thoughts and feelings are still lingering within me tonight as I move about my evening routine at home. I keep stopping in my tracks, and quietly start to cry. It's just me and my son Remy here, and he has been in such a good mood, so I don't want to worry him with my sad 'ol self. I took some time for myself in my bedroom, and let the tears flow. It brought me some relief. I then took off my work clothes, and just laid on the bed, not wanting anything to touch me. I think I was feeling overwhelmed with emotion, and didn't want to add any outward physical stimulation to my body. I wanted a pure moment with as little connection to this world as possible. If it were possible, it would have been most satisfying to just float there in mid air, no clothing on, no wind to distract me from my inner stirrings. When I felt aptly satisfied with giving into my emotions, I reached into my top drawer, and took out my comfort clothing.

I have never been much for pajamas. In the evenings I had always been more of a boxers and t-shirt kind of guy. Michael was very much a pajamas kind of guy. He had pajamas for almost every occasion. Some were fancy ones from Japan, others were nerdy ones like Star Wars, and others were seasonal. But my favorite were just an old pair of red plaid pajama bottoms that he would wear with an old t-shirt of the same colors. They came to symbolize comfort to me. Whenever I would see Michael in these I would just want to wrap my arms around him and smother him in kisses. He was just adorable.

Now, whenever I need that extra layer of comfort, I don his apparel. At first my kids thought I was nuts, as clearly they are way too big for me. But in time they began to see how much comfort they provided me. Some people eat comfort food. I wear my comfort. I suppose it's the closest thing I have to Michael wrapping his arms around me. It allows me to move about my evening with only his touch directly on my body.

Tonight I can wear my red, and make like I'm celebrating Valentine's Day. A couple of months ago I could wear it and look like I was celebrating the coming of Christmas. I know that I don't need a reason, nor do I need to justify it. I'm sure that everyone that comes across me will know that I am doing the best I can, taking care of myself, and feeling close to the man I love.


  1. I totally get this Dan, and keep certain shirts and t-shirts (and his pillows) for occasions such as this. Comfort clothing is a tenuous link to them isn't it? And you are so right, you don't have to justify it to anyone at all xxxx

  2. I kept some of Jeff's most iconic shirts, to sleep in, and wear around the house. I don't care one bit that they are sized for a man that was 11 inches taller than me and outweighed me by nearly a hundred pounds. (When he bought them. Not so much at the end.) Nothing really has his smell anymore, which makes me sad. And yeah, almost every day I stop short and ask him "How can you be GONE?" Damn it, crying again. Just a little. And then I will get up and go do something. Thanks for writing, Dan.

  3. it's that logical mind that trips it all up - because it is not at all logical that he is gone (any of our He's). Does not compute.

  4. Thanks for writing; I found your blog tonight. At almost exactly a year behind you in this process, it is good to hear someone else say (or write) the things I am feeling. I have worn his hoodie everyday since he passed. The grey seems to match my mood. Thanks again.

  5. Hi 2kmlBeaker.

    Welcome to my blog. I'm sorry for your loss. I think you will find that there are so many common threads among each of us who are widowed. Grief is a difficult thing to get through, but it is something that I've learned goes hand in hand with love.

    Take care.