One Entire Year of Black

In Greek culture you are expected/entitled to observe 1 year of mourning when a family member dies.
During which time you either wear all black (old school) or a black armband (men)
or a black piece of fabric pinned to your clothing (women).
If you are a parent who loses a child you are expected to wear black for the rest of your life;
I find this profound and fitting, because I don’t think parents ever get over losing a child.
Which brings me around to this past year.
My Dad was Greek, a child of immigrants, and he died on 6/28/07.

I’m still in my year of black.
Of mourning.
And as my Greek Theetsa (Auntie) says, “It’s not nearly enough.”

So if it seems like I am still screaming into the wind tunnel
Chattering to myself
Bouncing off walls in my apartment
Staring into the void/point of exit
Sobbing while walking on the waterfront trail
Singing till I’m hoarse to country and bluegrass

Just remember, I have a whole fucking year.
And I’m taking all of it.
And it’s not nearly enough.