Day 9: My Pink Period

     We all wore black to Jacinta's funeral. My abuela wore black for many, many years after abuelo died and that always felt right to me. I felt like it kept him with us somehow.  So I bought Lou a sweet little black dress, splurged on a black wrap dress for myself, and rushed out to get black suits for Andrew and Hambone. Jacinta's funeral wasn't a celebration of life, it was a public pronouncement of my suffocating grief, my soul crushing disappointment.
     As we walked to the funeral which was held in the private cemetery behind our house, where Jacinta was buried, I saw sea of dark colors and one bright pink coat.  That coat made me smile. It was worn by a mother from my daughter's Montessori school, a mother I didn't know very well.
     This is my black period, I thought to myself, I hope I get a pink one.  I was happy to have that pink coat there, it reminded of joy and reminded me that I still had access to it.
     Ironically I found out later that the woman wearing the coat was also diagnosed with breast cancer around that time.  Her dark days were just beginning as she reminded me of brighter times.  I don't know her well enough to have told her of the impact her coat had on me that day but I dedicate this square is to her.