When I talked to someone about this post I lied and said the dress I would talk about was the one I wore when the last boy I dated dumped me. It wasn't.
It was actually the dress I wore to my brother's funeral. I lie about that, and avoid talking about it, all the time I don't know why. I deny myself opportunities to talk about it even though sometimes it's all I want to do. But that's another story: let's talk about that dress.
It was a Christmas present in the Christmas of 2013, I wore it to New Year's that year. It went to university with me and I wore it on a couple of nights out in my final year. It's black and faux leather so I usually confine it to winter because even without tights it's damn warm.
The funeral was on the 3rd February 2015. I had to go back through my diary to find that. He died on the 15th January so the funeral was some time after that and obviously one date it much more memorable to me than the other. I remember it all so clearly but looking through my diary made me realise exactly how much it happened within the confines of my life. There are appointments and deadlines and social events littered over those two weeks and I kept all of them. I remember it as an expanse of time; a gap, and saying I'd do things 'after the funeral', but in reality I didn't stop and I didn't let anything give.
We decided to keep the dress code as black because sometimes grief is just bad and you don't want to celebrate life and wear colour. That's fine if you did but we didn't and I stand by our decision.
I smiled and felt uncomfortable and let out the smallest of sobs in that dress and then I was reunited with members of my family and chatted about everything else. Later I got changed and ate and cried a lot more. The day was weird because everyone looked lovely but no one felt like they could say so. It was weird because I asked advice on what to wear and if my lipstick was even and my mum asked me if I thought her dress went with her shoes and looked okay and it did but it felt strange to say. I'd lost a lot of weight at this point and I'm not sure I was even happy with how I looked in that dress, but it felt like a good demonstration of how we were all coping that we could manage to get dressed and be well-presented even after what had happened.
I wasn't sure if I would ever wear that dress again, not because of the bad memories but because it felt strangely inappropriate to acknowledge that it was nice and I looked good in it because you're not meant to notice that sort of thing at a funeral. But it's my dress, and it's for me to wear. It's not just my funeral dress in the same way that I'm not just grieving. It is my funeral dress in the same way that I am grieving. It's also my 'End of Term celebration' dress because I also spent the evening with my friends and enjoyed their company. It is both things because I am both things. It hasn't stopped being my funeral dress any more than I've stopped grieving but I don't want my clothes to be put into categories any more than I want that for myself.
This felt like the right time to write this because I'm walking back through the four months between his diagnosis and his death and everything feels so familiar sometimes I have to remind myself it's not happening all over again. I want to wear that dress again this autumn on no day in particular and for no reason. Probably just with a jumper thrown over it. I want to claim back my favourite time of year and that dress I look great in. I want to spend this time talking about all this as much as possible because I've learnt so much about myself from it, and about other people. I hid it for such a long time and I refuse to be ashamed by my pain any more.
I need to reclaim that dress because I need to reclaim my memories as mine, as times I felt happy because of the life I've built for myself not memories of the things that happened to me without my say-so. I need to wear it to my good job, and around my wonderful friends, and on days I'm out by myself and feeling 100% me. I need it to have multiple meanings to me because I need to have multiple meanings for myself. I need to be open about all of them. I want to be able to list 'grieving' as comfortably as I list 'successful'. I am both.
I want that to be my 'funeral dress' and my 'if you can do that, you can do anything dress'.
I smiled and felt uncomfortable and let out the smallest of sobs in that dress and then I was reunited with members of my family and chatted about everything else. Later I got changed and ate and cried a lot more. The day was weird because everyone looked lovely but no one felt like they could say so. It was weird because I asked advice on what to wear and if my lipstick was even and my mum asked me if I thought her dress went with her shoes and looked okay and it did but it felt strange to say. I'd lost a lot of weight at this point and I'm not sure I was even happy with how I looked in that dress, but it felt like a good demonstration of how we were all coping that we could manage to get dressed and be well-presented even after what had happened.
I wasn't sure if I would ever wear that dress again, not because of the bad memories but because it felt strangely inappropriate to acknowledge that it was nice and I looked good in it because you're not meant to notice that sort of thing at a funeral. But it's my dress, and it's for me to wear. It's not just my funeral dress in the same way that I'm not just grieving. It is my funeral dress in the same way that I am grieving. It's also my 'End of Term celebration' dress because I also spent the evening with my friends and enjoyed their company. It is both things because I am both things. It hasn't stopped being my funeral dress any more than I've stopped grieving but I don't want my clothes to be put into categories any more than I want that for myself.
This felt like the right time to write this because I'm walking back through the four months between his diagnosis and his death and everything feels so familiar sometimes I have to remind myself it's not happening all over again. I want to wear that dress again this autumn on no day in particular and for no reason. Probably just with a jumper thrown over it. I want to claim back my favourite time of year and that dress I look great in. I want to spend this time talking about all this as much as possible because I've learnt so much about myself from it, and about other people. I hid it for such a long time and I refuse to be ashamed by my pain any more.
I need to reclaim that dress because I need to reclaim my memories as mine, as times I felt happy because of the life I've built for myself not memories of the things that happened to me without my say-so. I need to wear it to my good job, and around my wonderful friends, and on days I'm out by myself and feeling 100% me. I need it to have multiple meanings to me because I need to have multiple meanings for myself. I need to be open about all of them. I want to be able to list 'grieving' as comfortably as I list 'successful'. I am both.
I want that to be my 'funeral dress' and my 'if you can do that, you can do anything dress'.
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