One day, you find a treasure – say it’s a pretty piece of violet, satin thread. You put it away in your thread box. There it lies with all your other threads and ribbons and stuff like that. Every time you look at it, you stop for a minute to think just how precious it is. But you probably never take it out of there. You know that it’s rare and coveted, and more importantly, it’s yours. You just keep it in the box, day after day, week after week, months, years, decades.
Practically a lifetime later, you look into the box and see that the thread has snapped. When you pull it out, along with it comes a huge tangle of your other yarn and ribbons and lace trimmings. Over time, the velvet thread just got weaved in, meshed with and got blended into so many, many other things. And although the thread itself had snapped, you couldn’t really disentangle it from the other stuff. Its color had rubbed off on other swabs of cotton and pieces of cloth. The stuff that, over time, had lost all their countenance and become violet…willingly.
Trying to get over someone’s death…it’s something like this. Everything’s violet.
Practically a lifetime later, you look into the box and see that the thread has snapped. When you pull it out, along with it comes a huge tangle of your other yarn and ribbons and lace trimmings. Over time, the velvet thread just got weaved in, meshed with and got blended into so many, many other things. And although the thread itself had snapped, you couldn’t really disentangle it from the other stuff. Its color had rubbed off on other swabs of cotton and pieces of cloth. The stuff that, over time, had lost all their countenance and become violet…willingly.
Trying to get over someone’s death…it’s something like this. Everything’s violet.
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