1. Well, It’s Going

Nora McInerny is an author, speaker and podcast host who has never claimed to be the brightest ray of sunshine. The world can be doomy and gloomy! But in the spirit of her late husband, Aaron, she’s made it a goal to find one okay thing – every day.

“It’s Going To Be OK” is a daily podcast from Feelings and Co, the company that brought you “Terrible, Thanks for Asking.” Each morning, we bring you a short story, essay, or interview about one thing that makes us (or our guests) feel like it might not all be so bad – even if some things are.

Transcripts may not appear in their final version and are subject to change.

In November 2014, my husband Aaron was dying of brain cancer. He’d been sick for three years, but it was easy to forget that he was sick. Aside from the scar that wrapped around the right side of his skull like the stitching of a baseball, he was still really handsome. And aside from a tumor eating its way through his brain, he was still witty and sharp.

And aside from the side effects of chemo and radiation, he was vibrant and he was active. Until he wasn’t so much anymore.

And in the end, the tumor progressed and brought him a limp, it drooped the side of his face, it became resistant to the poisons the doctors pumped through him. Seizures wracked his body and left him sweaty and confused on the floor of our little house. And on his very last trip to the ER, the same ER where we’d been told three years earlier that something was growing in his brain and he needed surgery IMMEDIATELY, we were told there was nothing left to do but go home.

In his last two weeks of life, before the tumor took his ability to talk, Aaron told me the same thing over and over again. This was something he’d said when he was diagnosed, and when his tumor returned. Something he told me when our son was born and brought immediately to the NICU. Something he said when my own father died, something he said when I lost our second pregnancy. It’s something he said even in the Before Times, when we were just a normal couple and I was constantly stressed out by my job in advertising where I would get emails with the subject line 911-EMERGENCY… the 911 emergency being, a banner ad or perhaps a Facebook post that the client wanted me to rewrite.

Whatever the situation, Aaron always told me…

It’s Going to be okay.

And when the stakes were low-ish, I could pretend to believe him. But when he was literally dying in front of me I thought…

Did I give you too much morphine or not enough?

Because you’re wrong, buddy.

You’re really, REALLY WRONG!

Because you have literally no idea what you’re saying or what you’re talking about! Because you’re going to die! And that is not okay! You are not okay! I AM NOT OKAY! Our son is not going to be okay! I’m not going to be okay!

But I never said that. I just nodded and pretended like I believed him.

And when Aaron died, I kept pretending. I put those words on his prayer card. I have them framed in my living room to this day.

I do not always believe them.

Even though most of my life today is okay, if not better than okay. Knock on wood [knocks on desk] of course, we don’t want to jinx this, but I have work I love. I have a family I love, all of my basic needs are met and then some.

And also, you know…I can’t help but spend my nights and most of my days in a near-constant state of dread, anxiety and depression because, you know, big picture? Big picture, things are not great. And I don’t need to list all the ways that’s true, because you already know, and if you’re like me, you are already thinking about them. All the time. You, too, wake up and drink from a firehose of human suffering.

I see Aaron’s words everyday:

It’s going to be okay.

And sometimes, I’ll look at that print and agree, well, it’s going.

Mostly, I can agree that it’s going to be.

It’s going to be…like it or not. I do find some freedom in that.

And in the fact that Aaron never said WHAT was going to be okay. He was beautifully vague. He said it’s going to be okay. He never clarified what it was. It could be anything!

It’s not okay that Aaron died. It’s not okay that our son is growing up without him. It’s not okay that Aaron’s mom lost her only son, or that his sister lost her only brother.

But what is okay is that our son has his father’s lip and his father’s sense of humor. That all these years later, Aaron’s family is still my family. That my son has a Matty Daddy to raise him, and siblings with their own losses who understand what it’s like to miss the family you had and love the family you have.

So I’m trying to be more like Aaron. I have made it a practice to find one okay thing about every day. Not a great thing, not a wonderful thing — an okay thing. Something small to keep me from spiraling down into the abyss: my youngest son’s chipped tooth, our dog’s little snaggleteeth that stick out from her lips … I don’t know why all of these examples are dental. And I don’t do this to try to deny the darker parts of reality, but to try to channel a little bit of Aaron’s light, his buoyancy: in the face of his own death, he could focus on the best parts about life. I am not naturally like this, if you can tell. I started a podcast called Terrible, Thanks for Asking! My latest book is called Bad Vibes Only!!!

So, this is an experiment. For me, for all of us. Instead of starting my day with a doom scroll, I’ll start them here: spending a few minutes thinking about what isn’t terrible. Finding an okay thing. You’ll hear from me, from you, from other people…and we’ll get through whatever this is…together.