Brave? Nope.

Today I was having a nice conversation with John across the hall. He recently returned from a family vacation to Rome and was telling me all about it. I mentioned it was my hope to take the kids overseas this summer while I was still able to walk, and asked if he'd heard about Louise. I presumed he had, since several of his coworkers know. But he hadn't, he expressed his sadness on my behalf, and told me I was very brave.

I don't think of myself as particularly brave. Like I said earlier, everything is still very normal. Those things I can't do any longer I just don't do, and each day that becomes what is normal. I have said this is the hand I've been dealt, I'm just going to play it.

During the heaven conversation I had with Lynne, she said she didn't know how anyone who didn't have faith could face what I'm facing. I don't know that my faith is all that it should be, either.

I know I go back and forth from melancholy and sadness to Pollyanna-ness and pragmatism. When I'm pragmatic, am I brave? I don't think so. I think I'm just ignoring reality!

There really isn't any point to this ramble. I just started thinking about bravery and how I've managed to fool lots of people. Because, Polly and pragmatism notwithstanding, when I go deep inside me I am scared to death and sad beyond measure.