Doing?
That is a complete sentence. Dennis used to say it to your face, text it, or leave it as a voicemail. While the origin story remains part mystery, I believe it involved one of his children (then toddler) catching him in the act of late night snacking on some ice cream. It evolved into one of his numerous legendary shticks. We keep a list.
Now nearing the 11 month mark since Dennis’s death, I ask myself that one word question frequently. Doing? How am I doing? What am I doing with all that life is dishing out?
“You’re doing great.” Am I? I’m doing the best that I can. I’m doing my job and getting 
done. I’m making my way onward, whether that be in strides or at a snail’s pace varies by the hour.
As my sister and I say while lake swimming, I’ve been walking along a muck bottom this whole time. Right around the 10-month mark, something shifted. The muck bottom lost its semi firm squish and became more quicksand like, pulling me under. The waves began to churn as the grief storms returned. My research and experience tell me this is completely normal and expected. I’ve seen the “year two is harder” wisdom of the internet grief gurus. Good to know.
I remain grateful for my people. I will keep asking the question and live into the unknown future with all the hope I can muster.
Doing? I’m doing this. By the grace of God, I persist.