This loss is a tradition I've never understood. If white is the absence of color, why does it evoke so much emotion, bring back such vivid memories? Could it be the stark contrast?
The scent of climbing roses?
The velvet touch of a flower's petal?
Or the sound of waves on sand?
And yet I know white isn't just a memory of senses. So then why do I miss something defined by nothing? Maybe because, for me, white is weddings,
flowers in my mother-in-law's Charleston garden,
and sweet iced tea with my sisters on a veranda.
Then again, others may have a different view of white. For those who see the world through glasses, white has a hue. Pink, maybe?
For those who just met, white is questions. He loves me? He loves me not?
For those on a journey, no matter how far, white is a watchful friend.
For those who serve, white is Duty,
But white isn't always so noble or grand. For those who've lived through a storm's devastation, white is humbling.
For those who grieve, white is fading.
For those who are lost, white is blurry.
For those seeking forgiveness, white is redemption.
And for those who are gone, white is remembrance.
If this lack of color, hidden within the sun's rays, dries our tears, lifts us above ourselves, brings us peace, then white is nothing short of mercy.
And since mercy is the only thing in this world that's free, its loss leaves a yearning in my heart vibrant reds and shimmering golds can't replace. Because when all is white,
All is hope,
All is love,
All is Grace.
May you find happiness and peace in summer's last embrace.
What is a "Study in . . ."?