Is the glass half full or half empty?

Sometimes in life the question isn’t is the glass half empty or is the glass half full.  There are times in life you have to accept that you’re facing two glasses—one is empty, and the other is full.

I’m struggling with those damn glasses right now.  On the left is a goblet that existed only in my dreams for many years.  Now it’s real, and it’s overflowing with a vivid red cabernet.  Each time I receive good news about my book, I take a sip.  Last week, a few initial reviews of DEFECTIVE came in—a 5 star and a 4.8 star.  Pretty good for a first-time author—that gulp tasted sweet.

But, as that liquid trickled down my throat, I stared at an empty Penn State mug.

Last night, we celebrated my mom’s seventy-sixth birthday.  The empty mug sat in the middle of the dining room table staring at all of us.   It used to overflow with my brother’s libation of choice, beer.  I would have gladly dumped my wine into it, and everyone else would have followed pouring the liquid from their glasses into his.

The saddest thing is watching the people you love try to rise above their pain and fail miserably.  Our family has so many things we want to be happy about.  But, last night, as we sang Happy Birthday, all we managed to do was fill the Penn State mug with tears.

We miss you, Don.

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