A lady came up to me today and asked me a question, point blank. She just grabbed my arm, looked me in the eye, and without saying “hello”, or introducing herself, she just asked me this: “How can you still smile, after losing someone so close to you?”

That’s a loaded question. I may act aloof, and childish… I cannot hide that, but all that aside, I like to CHOOSE my course. I almost took that question as an insult. As if she were accusing me of not caring, and trust me, many people would have taken it that way… especially since she just blurted it out just like that. But I made eye contact right back, realized she was not trying to be rude… she was another person who had listened to Kidd for years, and was clearly devastated. In the last three weeks, people have looked at me as if I was a disabled puppy, I’ve been asked “how I was holding up?”, and told “I am sorry for your loss,” thousands of times. Don’t feel sorry, be glad that you had him in your life. He may have been taken away from us, but the memories don’t go with him… those stay forever. Have I grieved? Absolutely. I went through text messages, voicemails, emails, called his phone, and cried. That is normal.

I have not really talked much about Kidd’s passing, because it takes me back to that day… and I never want to live that day over again. I do, however, talk about my relationship with Kidd. I talk about how much fun we had the night before. I talk about our jam sessions. I talk about the inside jokes. I talk about how he changed my life. I talk about what he has taught me. I only talk about the moments that brought, and still bring, a smile to my face. It doesn’t mean I have moved on, because I don’t think you ever really “move on” when you lose someone close to you. I’d just rather pretend they are with me.

Here is how I look at things, it works for me, so maybe it can work on other people: Your eyes will lead you to where you will end up. If you hang your head every time you face adversity, you will constantly be looking down. I don’t want to go down. I don’t want to feel low. I don’t want people to feel bad for me. I don’t want to go that direction. Keep your head up. If you do that, you will always be looking up, and your eyes will always have you looking ahead. It makes me feel better to know there is always something up ahead. You can’t enjoy life if you are staring at the ground. Keeping my head up lets me take everything in… and that makes me smile. That is how I can smile after losing someone so close to me. I choose where I want to go, and how I want to feel. After all, Kidd always told us to keep looking up, right?

Now, I can tell you about my embarrassing moment of the month. I am really into Bruno Mars right now, especially his song “Gorilla”. It’s a bit of a grown up song, full of naughty lyrics, but I have that thing on replay at all times in the car. It is currently my “I don’t care if brunopeople are watching, I am gonna pretend I am in concert” song right now. I sing that thing, loud! My voice is nowhere close to Bruno’s, but in my car, it doesn’t matter. So I am driving to the store, windows cracked, singing like a champion. I pull up to a light, still rocking out. Now, there is a part in the song where he says, “give it to me, give it to me, m—– f—–!” That is exactly what I sang, loud as can be, because it is the best part of the song. I look to my right and see the petrified face of a kid in a van, with his dad in the front seat, same petrified look on that guys face. I look away and do the mumbling singing thing because I have officially embarrassed myself. Not just with singing all out, but with the lyrics. Out of the corner of my eye, I just see the van’s window roll up. I seriously considered taking a detour and turning right to get away from the situation. I did not, but that was the longest, most awkward red light ever. Good times