The Hardest Question

The Hardest Question

One of the hardest questions I have to face is the now ubiquitous, “how are you doing?” or “how are you holding up?”

It’s not hard because it’s the wrong question, or that I wish people would quit asking it — well, I mean I have heard it a lot and I’m ready for people to quit asking it, but I understand why it’s being asked. And yet it’s hard because the honest answer is, I don’t know how I’m holding up. Sometimes I think I’m doing better because I’m not randomly breaking down anymore. But then I feel bad because I feel like I should be feeling worse, and then that problem is solved.

And then I might read my sister’s blog and start crying all over again. Or once in a while I’ll be looking at my children and tears will sting my eyes that grandma will not be present in their lives anymore, and the youngest of them — certainly Kaylee — will not remember or know my mom in this life.

Or maybe I think about the fact that I will certainly visit my mom’s grave at some point in the future, but that’s too painful to think about right now. Apparently some part of me is not ready to admit that her body, her shell, is in the ground, returning to the dust from whence it came.

I also remember from time to time that we have not talked about a headstone at all yet. I have not been able to bring it up with dad, and I don’t know if he’s thought about it yet. And then I am sad all over again.

So, about that hard question — I still don’t know, but it’s sort of looking like I’m not doing all that well.