People have been very gentle with us. But we have been asked this question enough times, in enough ways, that I am sure most of you are thinking something like this.
Its hard to explain.
Neither of us is very good at having a public face that is different from who we are. Sure, there are different things we may say (or not say) depending on who we are with, but our conversation typically comes out of who we are and what we are thinking about. We’ve always been pretty honest here on the blog – sure, we polish it a bit, and work to communicate it in a way that a broad audience can understand, but it has usually been a good representation of what we are experiencing. That hasn’t changed.
There aren’t many days where I don’t shed some tears – some days more, some days less. I get kind of morose in the evenings when I am tired, and start to dwell on my pain – but that is usually around bedtime, and when I realize its happening, I’m able to just go to sleep. I do a whole lot of nothing, because simple tasks and social interactions are exhausting.
I can see signs of life, though. I’m able to do just a little more before I am knackered. I’m able to focus and read things. I’m curious about things; I am learning.
Being outside is good for my soul, and I’ve been able to get out into “real nature” nearly every day.
I’m mostly able to choose coping mechanisms that are good and healthy instead of ones that are destructive. I won’t speak too much for Mike, but I will say that the same is mostly true for him.
And we are doing OK. Mike & I are drawing towards each other and not away. We are giving each other space to grieve differently and to heal differently, but also spending time together. Doing our best to be kind, gracious, patient, and forgiving towards one another. Not shying away from sharing our stories and memories, be they funny or sad (most of them are both). We’re looking at the future, and starting to consider some ideas.
We are not putting up a good front, or trying to be strong for anybody else.
We are strong.