Every once in a while during winter, the clouds clear long enough for the sunsets to peek through.
And then every once in a great while, the clouds hang low in the sky late in the day. And the sky lights up in a beautiful color pink.
Pink skies have become intensely comforting to me, for what may sound like a strange reason. Chester Bennington, singer for Linkin Park that last year died by suicide.
It was his favorite color.
He was one of my favorite singers.
His loss was visceral to me. His voice, lyrics, screams on key, they brought me once through an very dark time of my life. Like so many other fans, I could relate to the band’s message, led by his ethereal voice. His voice, leaking pain into us all to let us know none of us was ever alone in this, was imprinted deeply into me.
So the loss of it, of him, was a hollowing out that most fans shared.
His favorite color was pink.
Most times I see the color – in a teddy bear in a mall, in the sky at dusk, in my Hue lights, in a cozy sweater – it comforts me. I was never a fan of pink, but now it brings me incredible comfort. As if the color could put a hand on my shoulder, tell me silently that I’m still not alone, that parts of him are still here with us all.
This is why I love pink sunsets so much.