I'm Fine

"I'm fine".  The first thing someone asks you when they see you, "How are you?" To which you are supposed to respond "I'm fine". 

I've always been a person who likes to make sure that everyone around me feels comfortable.  I don't want to upset anyone, ruffle any feathers.  So when someone asks me how I am these days, I say "I'm fine".

And I am fine. I am fine for someone who feels like their whole world fell apart two months ago.  I am fine for someone who is constantly thinking about their loss.  I am fine for someone who is repeatedly reliving memories that, while necessary, are not always pleasant.  I am fine for someone who has to continually ask hard questions about their faith, and find a way to get through the doubt and the fear to somehow find my way back to hope and trust.

But I know that is not what you want to hear.  The time has come, two months later, when everyone else has moved on.  The time has come where I am expected to carry on conversations that have nothing to do with loss or fear or doubt.

So I do.  And I am fine.  But it is a different kind of fine than I was two months ago.