We’re all doing okay.

I thought I should start off with that, since every time I talk to anyone, that’s what they’re wondering. How am I, how’s Dad, how’s my husband, how’s my sister.....

...we’re okay. Not great, but okay.

It’s hard to have this huge space that was filled with worry and effort and trying to figure out how to beat the cancer and save Mom be suddenly empty. And then every time I look at photos, I see her face and I realize that all of her silly happy outgoingness isn’t here anymore, and it hurts.

I suppose I could stop looking at pictures, but that would hurt, too. Because she was a great mom.

At any rate, we’re all back to work and organizing the house so my dad can get it set up in a way that will work well for him, and we’re glad he’s hanging in there. But it’s weird not to hear her singing to the dogs. And it’s weird not to google colon cancer cures. It’s also weird to see big, bright windows where her bed was in their TV room, and not to have to tell anybody that I’m not done with my water glass, so they don’t need to put it into the dishwasher.

Little things.

But we’re okay. It’s not brutal anymore, or intensely worrying, or any of that. Just a little lonely and empty. I’m sure that’ll get better, but, boy, do I miss my mom.