People keep asking me how I’m doing. I know they mean well, but this is an incredibly difficult question to answer. Do they want the truth or is it just a form question? If they want the truth, do I want to give it to them? And how am I doing? Do I really know?
In some ways I’m doing really well. I have a husband and kids that I love desperately. I’m so proud of my 6 year old who can spell pronunciation, will be on the swim team next year and has a generous heart. My 3 year old makes me laugh with his rules about nicknames (none allowed) and his infectious, mischievous grin. My husband is a rock, my best friend and my comfort. I’m also excited for him because he just got a new job.
My parents are wonderful and healthy. They are active and have good friends to take care of them when we can’t be together.
My grandmother seems to be on the mend and may soon be released from the hospital.
I live in an old house full of character in a beautiful city and have wonderful friends both here and far away.
In some ways I’m still devastated.
I want my brother. I cry while writing many of these blogs. Some days I just want to shut myself in my room and forget there’s a world out there. I still long for a quiet place with no responsibilities to cry and wail and rage and mourn.
The blog helps. My family helps. My friends help. Even work helps to an extent, it gets me out of the house.
If you ask me how I’m doing and you get an answer that seems blasé, or vague or flippant, just think about what you are asking me. I’m never going to be ok. I am going to continue moving along, taking joy where I can find it and stealing moments to grieve.
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