Surviving

One of the things we find amusing about my mother-in-law is that no matter the day or time, if you ask her how she is, she’ll predictably say, “oh, you know, surviving”. To my consternation, lately, I’ve found myself saying the same.

It’s always been a fatal flaw of mine, telling it like it is. So, I can’t bring myself to answer even the most casual, “how are you?” from a virtual stranger with a lie. What I should say is, “great, how are you?”, which is, of course, what is expected because few actually ask that question out of anything other than habit. But I’m not great. Maybe I will be again one day. For now, I can’t say I’m great, because I am missing part of my heart. When I am asked how I am, my first thought, every time, is Charlie. I was okay, when Charlie was still here.  Now that she’s gone, every day is simply about survival and… “I’m surviving”.

Don’t get me wrong. 15 months after Charlie left us, there are more and more days when we do more than just survive. Some days are even pretty good. Today Carl and I observed James, writing his first undergrad law exam. For most, this would be no big deal. For a young man who at 21 has already faced more obstacles than most do in a lifetime, it’s amazing to see.

This morning there were birds singing in the garden. The sun was shining and nature was celebrating. Winter isn’t over yet, but there is life springing up all around us.

Between the sun shining, the birds singing, and James successfully studying, today was a pretty good day.

The days are getting brighter, literally and figuratively. I’m not yet great. I’m still just surviving. One thing I can promise, though, is the day I answer “great!” when someone asks me, “how are you?” I will really mean it.