I’m faltering.

I’m tired of being overly positive and forward-focused when I don’t know what the heck I’m doing half the time.

But I will not give up.

I’ve faked most of my life in the past 21 months, and I realize it, by reading backwards. I can see where I chose to accentuate the good thoughts, as opposed to the bad thoughts.

And I hid the moments of utter fail, deftly beneath well-written sentiments that resemble the truth: I am faltering.

Jon was not one to be one thing, and do another. He did not pretend to be anything more than he was, at any given time. Some people saw him as the perfect friend, who never had a bad word to say about anyone. Other people saw him as the nicest guy with a wicked sense of humor. Sometimes worse than you might think.

And he was all of those things. When he came home at night to us, he was that same guy, (with the dirty humor slightly watered down), who would help anyone who needed it, wasn’t afraid to be friends with people he liked,despite general consensus, and was proud of himself and his family.

Living up to his memory seems to be harder for me to do every single day. In my parenting, my choices and decisions and just about any area of my life. I’m not quite as nice as he was to friends who irritate me. I’m not nearly as smart as he was, in that I don’t avoid problems before I walk right into them. And I am not nearly as patient as he was with our children, especially now that they are getting older and are capable of questioning my authority as a parent.

In fact, I pretty much fail at every opportunity, even though I keep trying.

And that’s all I can really do, anymore. I have stopped comparing my life to anyone else’s. I don’t know how do live like anyone but myself. And even though the majority of the world seems to prefer Jon’s way of doing things, I am what is left behind to take care of business.

And amidst all of these shortcomings and obvious failures, I refuse to give up. I don’t know what I’m going to end up accomplishing, when I make it to the other side of this journey; but I do know that I’m going to make it. By hook or by crook, I am going to survive this and join the rest of the world in living on this planet. And I am going to join my husband someday beyond it. Whether I truly deserve it or not.

Jon may have made it to perfection, in living as well as death. And I may make it by the skin of my teeth. That’s good enough for me. No matter what anyone has to say about it.

I’m really just putting myself on notice: I will not give up.