The Gods of Song and Poetry

Chapter 45 - Gray Day

"One is never afraid of the unknown;

One is afraid of the known coming to an end."

-Jiddu Krishnamurti

Chapter 45 - Gray Day

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

I lay on my bed, arms outstretched, left leg straight, right knee slightly bent. I was staring at my ceiling. A small beetle moved across it in an annoyingly straight path, and a piece of cobweb swung lazily in the air currents.

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

I was still fully clothed from work. From seven in the morning until three in the afternoon, I had the privilege of physically separating myself from humanity with protective gear thanks to the fact that nobody challenged me for the copper grinding station. With soft ear plugs, hard ear muffs, tinted safety glasses, a face shield, a leather apron, and leather gloves, I went eight hours without talking to or making eye contact with any of my coworkers, including my dad.

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

Since the copper station is a one person job, nobody noticed that I didn't take my fifteen minute break. During my lunch, I took a few bites of an apple, went to the bathroom, then went back to work early. At quitting time, I went to my locker and swapped my safety gear for my sunglasses, motorcycle helmet, jacket, and gloves. That way, I could still avoid most eye contact and conversation on my way out.

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

This had become fairly routine in the last couple of weeks, as had coming home and lying on my bed until dark, then taking a shower, crawling under the covers, and trying to sleep until the next morning. Sometimes, after I was sure everyone else was in bed, I would go downstairs and try to eat something. I was beginning to look a little too thin, even for me, and that was starting to prompt questions and concern. That was to be avoided at all cost. Questions and concern led to conversations, and that led to emotions.

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

When Kristy and I were little, my dad would read us books every night. Those were some of my fondest memories of childhood. He read us chapter books full of adventure, nonfiction books for kids, books about movies we loved, and of course, children's books, including most of the library of Dr. Seuss.

One of my first favorite books was My Many Colored Days. In it, Dr. Seuss used colors and animals to represent different feelings or emotions. Red days were energetic and had a horse clicking its heels. Yellow days were busy and had buzzing bees. Happy days were pink, sad days were purple, etc.

Kristy loved that book, too. Whenever my dad read it, though, she would make him skip Black Days. They were "mad" days and had a wolf who would "howl and growl at every cloud." It scared her.

I didn't see the big deal about Black Days. Sure, anger can be destructive, and it is to be avoided, but it is comprehensible. It is understandable. It is knowable. It can make you hurt things or people, forcing you to spit acid at them in the form of vile words, but then you could calm down, apologize, and move on. The path forward may be hard, but it was defined.

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

I had my own page that I made my dad skip. Gray Days. Anger I could understand, but not Gray. Gray was a mystery to me. An anomaly. Even in the book it seemed to manifest unbidden between Yellow Day and Orange Day, apropos of nothing. It was not caused. It simply was. It was never banished or dealt with, it seemed. It was not so much an emotion, as a lack of feeling anything at all.

That's why it freaked me out. Anger, happiness, sadness, excitement...they all had moving parts. They had direction, lifespans, beginnings, and endings. How do you deal with something that has no moving parts, but simply is? I was terrified that someday I would get trapped in a Gray Day, because there was no defined course of action to get back out.

I watched the bug crawl behind my desk. Turning my head, I refocused on the cobweb.

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

I didn't feel like any of the popular cliches. I didn't feel 'empty.' On the contrary, I felt quite full. I was full of Gray. It was like a constant, loud hum that prevented me from hearing the other feelings. Emotional static, if you will. It was consistent, uniform, and featureless. No other emotions were able to penetrate and make me feel something. I knew on some intellectual level that I should be scared of the Gray and try to fight it, but that's the thing...the Gray keeps you from feeling anything at all, even being scared of the Gray. Once you were in it, there was no more fear. No happiness. No sadness. No joy.

No pain.

Gray Day...Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

After a few hours of lying there, I felt a soft push from behind the Gray. A knock on the door. A clearing of the throat for attention. I considered the idea of letting something through the Gray. It might be a strong emotion, or a really bad idea trying to find it's way into my consciousness. My boredom got the better of me, however, and I decided to see what was there. I peered through the Gray as a blurry outline formed.

"Who are you?" I asked as it came closer.

"Just a partially formed idea, ma'am," it responded meekly. "Something I thought you should consider."

I contemplated ignoring him, running deeper into the Gray and letting him die of neglect. That seemed safest, but I was still bored, and I had no other ideas for breaking up the Gray, so I decided to hear him out.

"You, um...you've been purposely not remembering...someone, because it's too painful," he cautiously stated, "and that works, of course. It helps the time pass by without...pain. However, if you continue to do that, not relive the memories, then isn't it kind of like...she...wasn't in your life at all? With no memories of someone running through your mind, then it's as if they never really existed, at least not to you."

"You bastard," I said as he emerged from the Gray. "You son of a bitch. You aren't a partially formed idea. I know your name. You are Guilt!"

I tried to run, flee back into the deeper reaches of the Gray, but he was too fast. A grin full of razor sharp teeth flashed before my mind and bit down hard on my heart.

Hot tears formed in my eyes and ran down my temples. I sobbed as quietly as I could, because if my family heard, they would come to check on me, and I would have to speak to them.

Memories of Kelly played in my mind as I wept. The day slowly slipped away and darkness took over. I never got a shower, or crawled under my covers. I simply lay on my back experiencing the pain in my eyes and my head from crying too much, and begged the Gray to return.