Not having color in my life was normal. My parents would always tell me "Just wait until you find The One. The black and white that you see will explode into a world of color and your world will never be the same." Then they'd smile and look stupidly happy at one another and look expectantly at me like they couldn't wait until I found my soulmate.
Throughout my life, people would bring little pieces of color into my world. One boy I dated for a while, it was green, which happened to also be the color of his eyes. The trees, the grass, his eyes, were the only color I could see. Everything else was the same old boring black and white. He was good for me, but we inevitably parted ways since we weren't meant to stay together. I dated a girl for a while who brought red into my world. It was the color of her hair. Same story, we were good for each other for a while, but we eventually parted ways. It went on like that for years. I would date someone, there'd be a hint of color, but we never stayed together for very long.
But, the day I met Her. I was leaving a coffee shop. My arms were full of books and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and I ran straight into her. My books flew everywhere. We both started apologizing to each other while picking up my books, and we grabbed for the same one at the same time. Our hands touched, our eyes met, and my world exploded with color.
It wasn't an all at once thing. It started with her sky-blue eyes and grew out from there. Her goldenrod hair, her pinkish skin, her red and blue dress. The green of the trees came back. The sky tried to rival her blue eyes. Everything was bright and wonderful but I couldn't look at it because I was lost in her smile.
We ended up going back into the coffee shop together, and I was relieved when I found out that I had the same effect on her world as she had on mine. We talked for hours in that coffee shop about anything and everything we could think of. I couldn't remember being as happy as I was sitting there.
We, of course, ended up getting married and having a couple kids. I found myself telling them the same thing my parents had told me when I was younger and then looking at her with that same stupid smile. Every day I was happy. Every day I marveled at the beauty she had brought into my world. Even if she hadn't brought me color, she still would have brought me beauty and that fact astounded me. We spent many many happy years together. We went through many unhappy things. We were perfect.
The day I lost her was the day I lost the beauty. She was reaching the end of her days, we both knew it. We were old, as it happens. I left her side to run out to get some groceries. Thankfully I had told her I loved her before I left, and she was able to say the same. I was checking out when the color slowly drained from my world. I panicked. I left all the groceries there yelling a sorry to the clerk as I ran out of the store to my car. When I got home, she had a smile on her cold face. In her hand, was a note. It read "Thank you for all the color you gave me. I love you."
I cried. I hated the cold black and white world that now surrounded me once more. The children and I buried her. So many people showed up and gave me their condolences.
I went back to her grave site a few days after the funeral, gray flowers in my hand. I cried as I read her name on the headstone. Kneeling next to it, I buried one hand in the freshly overturned dirt, and with the other, I placed the flowers next to the stone. I put my face in my hand and wept more.
When I looked back to the flowers, I was amazed to see the same color of blue that was in her eyes happily residing in the petals of the flowers. I smiled, tears streaming down my face, "Thank you for all the color you gave me," I said, "I love you."