February 4, 2014. March 18, 2014. July 28, 2014. January 28, 2021.
As I am an artist, I love to work with color. It can evoke sorrow or joy, it can chill you to the bone or warm your soul. And the human eye can distinguish approximately 10 million variations of color. Incredible. But for this day, I am focusing on a different color range. In particular, the rainbow.
The rainbow consists of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Seven. Seven “pure” colors. Seven simple, beautiful, magical colors, especially when they are splashed across the sky in a wonderful arc.
My rainbow has no political agenda. It has nothing to do with rights. My rainbow isn’t bound by the laws of physics and can appear where and when I wish it. It is not fettered by the requirements of moisture and light refraction.
My rainbow is based on only one thing. Time. Seven days. Seven Weeks. Seven Months. Seven years. It is my rainbow of sorrow. My rainbow of loss. My rainbow of healing. My rainbow of memories. My rainbow of joy.
It is my marker of a world traveled without that 1/2 of me that dared. Without that beautiful woman who called herself the “auntie in the red dress.” It is the colors of the faerie laugh she had that danced on her lovers ears. It is the colors of the “poopy lip” that sprang out when she was hurt or playing that she was. It is the colors of joy at simple things. It is the colors of passion and sorrow and joy and pain.
Today is my second rainbow day. Seven weeks since my sweet twin’s passing.
And I know, without a shadow of doubt, that when July 28, 2014 and January 28, 2021 appear, my heart will feel no less heavy for the loss of my twin than it does today.
So I call out to my Rainbow Day to remind me of things other than sorrow and loss and that indescribable feeling of being somehow halved. It is my rainbow day. For colors to buoy me up. To make me see. To open my eyes to the light. And to remember her laugh.
It is my Rainbow Day.