I realize that when people ask, How are you? I do always forget that it is just polite conversation. I try to instantly evaluate the last few days to answer.
I forget they don’t necessarily know i live a double life, part in this world, and part behind the locked doors with my love, my destiny.
It doesn’t work for me because the sole moment is exactly where my emotional space is. Maybe a better question would be, How are you right now? Because 4 hours ago i was weeping in the parking lot of the care home; yesterday i was walking on air from some worldly accomplishment; but always, if i stop to think before i answer that question, my heart flies to the empty vessel of my beloved.
But that answer is not true to the slowly waking, fragile, unsure joy i find in life, the seasons, my work, and heartfelt friends.
My love is still there, very much himself to him and others around him, walking and talking – incessantly – although spoons and food make less and less direct sense.
One day last week i walked in, and somehow that barely firing brain realised me and remembered. The joy was explosive and unforgettable as he held me.
But for me the memory of his joy brings grief again and again, while for him it is as if it never existed.
Another day when i went in he was vague and babbling, stopping after about 30 minutes to look and say, “Oh is that really you?” When assured that this was the case he burbled, “oh i am so happy. ”
So ask, – thank you – but know that I don’t know which moment in time i will be able to answer from. Take the reply for the moment it came from.