I have learned to act. There is a place in my heart where I can shove emotions and experiences and let them out later. I may be at work and see a student who reminds me of Lev, his swagger, sweatshirt, or hair. I may be at an event, feigning unburdened happiness. I may be answering questions about the pregnancy with someone I just met. Just act normal, like a regular person would, I think to myself, and then move on, knowing that I can be real with myself later.
I think that's what people really mean when they say, "you are doing well." They don't realize they are complimenting my acting skills. Maybe doing well is learning to manage your emotions, knowing when to push them away, when to let them out, smiling when appropriate.
Maybe doing well just means you have not killed yourself, and you are dealing with your daily bodily requirements. Maybe it means that you are planning for your future, that you are able to imagine a future, not one free from grief, but one that continues from the tragedy. That is doing well, just going on and doing things that normal people do.
For I am no longer a normal person. Looking out on a room of happy people, I know that I am different. I am touched by tragic death, which tugs at my brain and my heart. Sometimes it is an overwhelming burden of loss and sometimes it is a brick in my pocket, but it is always there, dividing me from others. My life and emotions are divided into a before and after.
Grasping at bits of the me from before I'm going to get up and make waffles and try my best to have a "good" day.
I hope this baby brings joy. I hope that missing Lev will become less overwhelming as time goes on. I hope that it will become a brick in my pocket instead of a boulder ready to crush me.
It is still hard to continue on without him, yet we do, and we make it look like it's not so hard. That is our strength, in making it look like it's not so hard. We are good at that.
