Seeing Colours

I saw a video of a bride give her groom a present for their wedding. He was colourblind, and they were a pair of expensive colourblind glasses. She cried as he named the colours of the flowers of the bouquet, pronouncing each colour with reverence.

When my brother died, my life was overcome with grief. I was plunged into unfamiliar territory, I had always been disciplined and had pride in my self control and my rationality in situations that would leave most people spinning in subjective emotions. But now all I knew were emotions. My house of cards fell as each defence I built against feelings scattered into a pile of chaos onto my bedroom floor. When I tried to work, study, think, exercise, explore, no matter what I did the depression was inescapable.

You never tried to fix me. You only pointed at how the bitterness and anger and guilt each had different hues, helping me identify each name on my own. This one is pride, this one is longing, this one is family. You showed me where they each belonged in the spectrum of unconditional love. I opened my eyes to a world of colours.