One Week Later

It has been a week.

How am I?

Well, for starters, I am tired of answering that question. Seems every time someone sees me, they get doe-eyed, lose about two-thirds of the volume of their voice, and ask "How are you doing? Are you OK? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Curious, that the people who ask these questions are people I would not typically turn to for help. The people I turn to are the people who frequent this page. Well, those people I know about, anyhow. The people I turn do do not need to offer their assistance. Such support is a symbiotic constant.

Now, to answer the question: I am here. I have good times and bad times, as one might expect.

I feel an odd calm in that we have found out what, exactly, killed my brother. Heart attack.

I don't like knowing that I do not know something. An awkward sentence, but I am sure the sentiment is clear.

Apologies, but much of my creative energy has been spent on a final paper that was finished mere moments ago.

Good night.