Reflection On a Common Question..

Many of my close friends have told me that people always ask them how I am doing. They share that this is often asked with a downward glance and a soft voice, as if they are bracing themselves for the news. The news that I can’t get out of bed in the morning, that I keep my shades drawn, and that I have no hope left. It’s a normal question and a weighted question in the same breath. I get this question as well. I never know what to say. My mind draws a blank and I search for what I should say. I’ve come to realize that this is a question that  our society asks each other constantly, while half the time not listening to the response or giving an honest answer.

As I think about how I am doing, one memory is in the forefront of my brain. In the past I’ve had to watch amazing people go through losing the love of their lives. I remember thinking there is no way, no way I would survive losing Curt. As they were able to keep breathing all I could think was that I just knew that if I had to go through that, I would die too, right along side my love. And, in a way, I think part of me did die that day. Part of my heart is so intertwined with his that it is no longer here, it is with him where he is now. I wouldn’t change that for a moment. It means I loved him with all I had, the complete opposite of what I am feeling now. Just as deep and just as profound. Equal.

But, I have realized that you don’t die completely. You live. You slowly live. Minute by minute you learn how to do this and how you are doing changes by the instant.

You still breath, even though at times it feels insanely hard to get enough air in. You eat, even though at times you have to eat just fast enough or risk letting your mind wander and losing your appetite. You sleep, even though at times you toss and turn feeling for them, the familiar warmth that is no longer there. You work, even though sometimes you want to scream and cry out, beg people to see that none of this matters. You carry on conversations, even though people talk about things that, to you, seem so absurd. All you can do is shake your head and think, life is too short, absolutely too short, to waste your breath talking about another person or to complain about a situation rather than accept it or make a change and move forward.

So, how am I doing? I’m devastated and broken, no doubt about it. I am angry, frightened, sad, lonely, and in a state of shock. At times, all these things at once, other times, one at a time, other times, nothing at all, just blank. 

But the thing is, even though at times I feel all of these emotions, I find comfort in knowing that 100% of the time I am made strong by knowing that I am Mrs. Curtis Van Alen Joyce. Having that name has made me feel that I could be nothing less than strong. Long ago Curt and I became one person, each with our own strengths that together made us unstoppable. I honestly believe that when Curt passed away on the river that day, I received all of his strength as well. Jesus knew exactly what I would need and gave it to me.

So, over the last couple months I haven’t died, I’ve continued to do what I know how to do well, be Curt's wife and partner. Hold my head up and make my baby proud. Honor him by staying true to myself and not letting the darkness take over. Be the person that he married, someone who believes in storybook love and who always strives to be positive. I believe that if during your darkest and most unimaginable times you are able to keep your character and be your best self, you can do anything during your time on earth. And, although the tears haven’t stopped, neither has my faith.