Thursday, March 23, 2017

How Are You?

What a question.

I have 2 options when asked this question.

Option One:  I can put on the show.  Put the wall up.  Smile and give the obligatory, "I'm fine."  Then get out of Dodge.

Option Two:  I can break down, sobbing, and talk about how I feel like such a failure and a fraud.  How it's so hard to hear people tell me how strong I am or how great I'm doing or how much they admire how I've held fast while I just want to scream, "It's all an illusion.  I'm none of those things.  I'm just good at pretending."  I can lament the fact that I am controlled by fear in everything I do now.  There's no area of my life it doesn't touch.  I could tell about how grief has changed me.  How I feel it to my very core.  It's nearly impossible to live with it.  It's more impossible to live without it.

I usually opt for number one.

People expect me to be joyful.  They expect that the hope that lives within me is enough to extinguish the grief.

But it's not.

"Sorrow is knowledge; those that know the most must mourn the deepest." Lord Byron

The grief remains.  Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the hope.  I cling to it.  But I'm still living this life without my little boy.  I will miss him as long as God gives me breath.  Every moment of every day.  He is a part of me.  That's how God made me.  So I carry the sorrow, just as I carry the love.

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