"Hope you're doing well..."

I know better than to ask 'how' you're doing.
It seems insensitive in light of your current
plight.

I don't say 'Hope you're doing okay,'
because that sounds like I'm cursing you to
mediocrity.

I say "I hope you are doing well" as a prayer
and a blessing for your continued mental,
physical, emotional, and spiritual well being.
It may be all that I can do, until you are
ready to let me in, but it is not a wish made of
empty feelings.

'Doing well' means that I hope you are
remembering to care for yourself since
I can't. I hope you are doing the things
necessary to stay healthy, wealthy, and
wise...even though your heart may not
be in it.

It means I hope that you aren't letting
your friends and family's emotional
issues and traumas seep over and have
an adverse effect on you. Because you
and I can't allow ourselves the luxury
of absorbing other people's tragedies. We
have enough trouble 'fixing' us. And if
we aren't staying well and balanced and
focused and sturdy, we certainly can't
be of use to others.

I say all of this with true compassion,
and not a hint of animosity (though
you may not believe it now;) I am strong
enough to take your pain and lashing
out right now. I understand that you are
angry at things you can't control; death,
life, God, circumstance. I just happen to
be someone whom you can wrap words
and wrath around. And maybe you trust
I will love you enough to look beyond
this. I will not take it inside and make it
personal.

'Doing well' is shorthand all the great many
things I would like to say but that I am
not granted the time or audience to
say. My window of opportunity may not
be sufficient to speak the mountains of love
and concern I have in my heart for you.

It means, as cruel as this is, that life does
go on for the living. And if we don't stay in
the flow, it does go on without us. That won't
change reality, it won't bring anyone back,
and it certainly won't honor their memory
and importance to squander our miracle.
Our voice. Our passion. Our purpose.

Until the zest returns, until the light is back
on, you may have to muddle through and
fake it. Please fake it, until such time comes.
Let the action draw you along until the
inspiration returns.
We still love and need you.

Our pain cannot define us. Our grief and
misery cannot rule us. It isn't healthy for
us. It isn't fair to the living. It isn't respect
for the departed. This, too, shall pass.

Feel your rage.
Express it wisely, for your life is still going
strong, and you may have need of tomorrow.

Scream in a parked car. Beat a tree with a
bat. Get a punching bag and beat the hell
out of it. Get a junkyard car and destroy it.
Walk for hours. Run. Pray. Cuss God.
Cry.

Write your thoughts down. Send a letter to
your loved one. Talk to another person who
grieves. See a counselor. Go to group.
Let people in. Pray for help and understanding.
Release the pain.
Ask for help.

Everything you're feeling is normal and
all of it's okay. Feeling like hell is part of
tragedy. Hard as it is, we can and will make
it. Even though we may not care right now.

The only way past it, is through it. And until
you make it through, I pray you are doing
well. As well as can be expected. As well
as you can muster. Well enough to see what
blessings are still present, and not obscured
by loss.

I'll still be here when you're ready.