all the things I never was

 

I was never strong until I met Rico. 

People said I was. They said I had "endured so much" as a child and was strong because of it. They say the same about our kids.

Which is bullshit.

There is nothing about my parents dying or Rico dying that is noble or beautiful. There is nothing good that comes out of losing a parent. There is no character building because we've survived emotional trauma. There's no lemons to lemonade parable here and I'm not sure why the world seems to perpetuate this fairytale.

No - there is no strength to be gained from losing him. We are only strong from loving him, and being loved by him. We hold his trust, his memories, his joy for life  - but losing it did not magically make us better people.

We have anxiety, eating disorders, PTSD, depression and desperate unyielding sadness because we've lost people we love. We are not stronger, braver, better humans now. We are just moving forward, just taking baby steps day by day because what the hell else are we supposed to do?

He asked us to take care of each other until we see him again, so we do. We draw on what he gave us - what he taught us while he was here. And now, I am all the things I never was before I met him.

I am the person who sticks my hand in the garbage disposal.

I sign the financial aid forms.

I drive his white convertible that I said I'd never drive because it makes me look like the evil stepmom in every 80's movie ever made. I shout his name into the wind while I do it.

I have a tattoo on my wrist because he asked me to get it. He was too damn chicken to get one himself, but he kept asking me to do it,  so I now have a tiny heart that he drew for me on my left wrist.

I go to the bank. I don't like it, but I do it.

I decide what groceries we need. Lately it's been little more than apples, cheez-its and olives (green for me, black for Tiny), but we haven't starved yet.

I call the insurance company and the financial guy and the dude that vacuums the lint out of our vents. Neeks and I hammer in Halloween decorations by ourselves and teach ourselves to use a leaf blower - even though we mostly just shoot leaves at each other and laugh. We drive through cemeteries and pick out the best one for Rico's rainbow stone.

I move the couch on my own and drive the kids on a short roadtrip - not to forget, but to remember why we are here - just like the first time he took us on a cross-country adventure.

Before him I was a broken hearted girl. My imposter syndrome ran so deep that I was sure I had nothing of value to offer the world, and even more sure that one day everyone would know it. Before him I was scared of everything. Before him I didn't know what I was worth, what I was capable of - but he let me know.

He's gone, but I am all the things I never was, because he was here.