|The day after the funeral. National Memorial Cemetery of AZ. Not sure when Dad was actually buried|
|Red scrub brush foliage at my sister's hotel. I had forgotten about this fascinating plant.|
I feel like I'm being dragged from my mourning mind space, and I don't want to be. When someone close to you dies, the world seems to be fine with you drawing a bubble around yourself, some kind of cone of silence, an insulation of grief--and I'm run out of lame metaphors. But, what I've noticed, it that the world--our 21st century Western world--only allows for the existence of these metaphors for a short amount of time. A week at best. Am I wrong? How long are bereavement leaves anyway?
I'm back to work this week. Kids are back in school. I also have a rather high-stakes event this week that I have to prepare for.
Am I allowed no orphan's weeds? No tights of lament?