How are you?

I’m fine. It’s not a great question. And it’s an even worse answer.

 “How are you?” It’s just a typical greeting. We do it every day without much thought to the question or the response.

But after you lose someone, it takes on a new meaning. And the person asking says it with a different tone, or a furrowed brow, or an empathetic smile, or a head tilt.

How do you respond to this greeting, this question, when moment to moment, you are not really sure yourself? In some ways, I wanted to avoid people, because I didn’t want the discomfort of this question. Do they really want to know, or are they just saying hello? I suppose it depended on the person and the situation, but this became a sticky interaction for me for a while.

It felt utterly and completely wrong to respond, “I’m fine” or “I’m good, how are you?”  

It also wouldn’t feel right to say, “hanging in there” or “every day is different” or “how the hell do you think I am?!”

So what do you do? Ask your grief counselor. To be honest the day we discussed this, I was relieved to have something to bring to the table. I had what felt like a real conundrum to discuss. Upon returning to North Carolina after my summer in Denver, I was meeting with the wider circle of friends, and crossing paths with so many acquaintances, that I was hearing this question, several times a day.

My counselor encouraged me to think about a response that was true to me.

So what was true to me?

The real truth is that I would love to get past this greeting. I just wanted someone to ask, what is it like?  What are you going through?  Instead of assuming it’s hard, or assuming anything.  But most people aren’t going to do that. And I understand why. At best people are busy trying to distract you from your pain. They want you to feel better. And of course, I was grateful for that sentiment.

But, I would really love to tell you what it’s like.  How I know that I have a part of me that will never be dissolved.  How I had lost someone that I loved and who loved me back. That when he died there was love, so our relationship died in love. And now it feels like that love is a calcification.  It’s in my body.  It will never dissolve. So in grief, I feel that hard rock in me, and I can’t let it turn to a burden or to pain. The work is to live with it in love.

How do you say that when someone asks, “how are you?” Well, you don’t. You save it for your journal, or your few close loved ones, or your grief counselor. And that’s okay.

But, I did need to be true to me. And I wanted to make sure that when I responded to this question, how are you, that people could see that it’s not over. That grieving doesn’t just suddenly end. I also wanted people to know, that I was doing well.  Grieving is a true lesson in understanding that feelings are not “either, or”, but “and”.  This was a very important distinction for me as I grieved. I feel heartbroken AND hopeful. I feel weak AND empowered. I feel lonely AND loved.

For me, it was reasonable and comfortable to settle on this response.

How are you?

“I feel really strong and I am finding a way to be comfortable with my life knowing that Tim is now with me a different way.”

Thanks for asking.