I wrote this for my pact with my #writeingrief friend. She gave me three lines from my previous writing to write into. I chose the line below. It's from a piece that hasn't been published yet.
You can find my pact friend here.
"And I am broken but I am fucking fine. And nothing about me is fine, but I will get by."
It sounds so ridiculous and impossible to convey what I mean.
How am I, you ask? (Alright. How are you?)
“How is she?” (You ask someone else.)
I wonder if it’s a good idea to speculate about how someone is with someone who is not that person. I wonder if an outsider can ever really know how someone is. You maybe can’t trust the person to tell you the truth, but I think that “How are you?” is so much better than “How is she?”
Because no one but me can answer that question. You can ask me other questions, too. You can ask me things like, “But how are you REALLY?” or “But HOW are you alright?”
And then you can just let me say that I am alright, really. I am alright because that’s what you do when your daughter dies. babies die. Alright. Ok. Fine.
And you can say, “I wish I could fix this for you.” (You can’t.)
And then perhaps, “Why are you so angry?” (My daughter died. babies died. If that doesn’t answer that question then nothing will.)
“Should you really be writing and sharing all of this?” (Ah. Am I making you uncomfortable? It’s ok to look away. But, yes. I should be writing and sharing. The writing of others saves me, and if I stop writing, I will disappear. You may not notice if I disappear, though.)
“Why can’t you just move on? let go? It’s not healthy to be so dark.” (The darkness persists. If I hid this, it would still be here. The only thing that would happen would be that I wouldn’t be making you uncomfortable. And I would disappear. Disappearing is not healthy.)
What else might you ask me? I’m right here.