gray

Nothing has been technicolor since Rico left this world. 

Maybe in part because I kissed him goodbye at the end of September, hosted his party in October, and survived our first gray winter without him. Everything has seemed duller, less vibrant, quieter. Nothing was ever gray when he was here - nothing. 

But now it is spring, the skies are becoming more blue, the grass will spring up soon, the sun is fighting its' way through the windows regardless of how many shades I keep pulled down. The world is trying to creep back into my life - the real world - the regular world - and it's scary. 

I've been forging ahead - taking on some choreography jobs, judging dance competitions, volunteering at schools. I'm meeting people who have no idea who Rico was - no idea that my soul has been ripped from my body and unceremoniously stuffed back in, like a hastily repaired pillow. 

I am half of who I was, and am meeting people who never new the past me, the past him, the past life. I feel like everything needs a disclaimer: 

"You know I'm only crying because my husband died five months ago." 

"I'm sorry, I don't know the current loan rate on my house - that was my husband's thing, and he died."

 "I know I haven't called you for five years, but that's because I had another best friend - he died and now I need new ones."

There have been several more questionable decisions - and every single one happened because he is not here: 

I joined a gym, so I could be healthy for my kids. I don't go - but I joined one.

 I bought Tiny a drum set - because her dad said we could some day - and someday never came. 

I pierced my ears again - two ears, four holes.

 I booked us a trip to a retreat for familes who have lost a parent - that will either be a damn nightmare or the cure we all need. 

Nika and I did two podcasts - talking about how much it sucks to lose Rico. Then we listened to them and it sucked all over again. 

But there have also been confident decisions - moments that I know it was right. They are few and far between, because Rico was my sounding board - we decided everything together. I am not terribly confident in my ability to solo navigate, but these things seem to sit just right in my heart:

Taking Noah and Kaia to an Elton John concert. It was two years over due (Rico and I bought tickets for Noah two Christmases ago), but everything about it was wonderful. 

Making sure we all have mental health care. 

Having Noah here while he finished up student teaching at the local high school. 

Establishing a scholarship fund to honor Rico and Alisa. 

Volunteering at the high school to work with some of my Pinnacle kids on their senior year performances. 

I wonder if everything will will always feel wobbly and gray. I wonder if I will ever feel powerful and capable again.