I think we all have our own version of 'ok', and it might change meaning for any of us. I am usually most like GoneForever said...it is an automatic response when I know no one wants to hear me go on about how I really am. It means 'I am still putting one foot in front of the other', which is the best I can do. Who wants to listen to that?

I say I'm Ok in response to the How are you? question a lot, but deep down Ok for me is looking forward to what's possible instead of looking back at all I've lost & appreciating the time I've had with my husband more than the time we've spent apart.
I haven't arrived at the place where I am OK yet, but I am trying to reach it & that's progress.

Ok,this is what l always say to people when they ask how l am,even though they look at me as if to say,"are you really"so l say to them,"how are you are you Ok"
Am l Ok,l suppose the fact that l am still coping must prove that l am Ok to a certain degree.
take care
Alice

A few days before my husband died, he asked me if I was ok and I replied that I would never be ok again. Even though I answer with OK sometimes, it only means that I'm still here. Like TSKKS said, it usually means you don't want to know and/or I don't want to talk about it.

To me it means God almighty, he is the most powerful gift there is....

Sometimes I reply to that question as:
" I have my moments", "I have my days" , " I am surviving" (thinking to myself that this is a nightmare no one would want to be in), or "I am trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up"!
It all depends on who is asking "Are you OK?" A close friend or just an acquaintance usually gets a different answer. I sometimes want to ask back, what do you mean Are you OK?.....what are you really asking me?
When DH was almost gone, I kept telling him that "I would be ok, it would be rough...but I would be ok", and that "the kids will be ok, too." I still wonder if this gave him some kind of comfort when I said that to him, because he never replied back with anything, other than a blank stare and sometimes a slight nod of yes. Or, he felt that he wasn't going to die, so why is she saying this?

I had always answered this question (before widowed) as whether I am having a good day or bad day to how I am coping/sorting through life's problems one by one. Now, it takes on a different perspective I suppose.

When someone asks the question, "How are you?", I usually answer, "I'm okay", meaning I am functioning and trying to make it through the day but I am looking forward to being able to say "Fine, thank you" and really mean it.

ok is just enough to get people their answer, since most them them don't really care how I am doing. It works for me...I am here I do what I need to do...I am ok.

When people ask me how I am, my usual reply is that I'm OK. I don't know what else to say because it is either too complex and there's nothing they can do to make me feel better. Most have not lost their soulmates, so they expect you to feel as they do - happy and content!

I'm having a hard time trying to find myself out of this grief rut. I can do the business of life and be content with little things temporarily, but there's always that massive void. The days and nights spent without my love. What is scary is that there is no solution and I have to carry this pain for the rest of my life.

I hate what grief has done to me. It has totally changed my view of life to a pain that I never imagined. The depth of pain makes everything else seem meaningless. It is like, in physical terms, that I suddenly lost a leg and the phantom pain is always there. This is the best I can describe the pain of the loss of my partner.

being ok is just a response I give to people when they ask how I am. I know they really don't want to hear that I am a mess.

To me, it's just an answer I give to people when they ask how I am. I have just gone back to work after leaving for one year after losing my husband. I have soooo many customers that see me back and ask how I am doing. I know they are glad to see me and are being polite so I answer okay because I don't think they really want to know that I am lonely, sad, angry, and missing my husband so much that it hurts and I am still always on the verge of tears. So I just say okay.

I no longer know what OK means and I havent used that phrase in a couple of weeks now, since my better half went away. Truthfully she was more like my better two thirds, and now Im less than half of who i was.
im ignoring phone calls though I know its someone who cares. Some relative or friend. When I do have a conversation on the phone or in person Im really not having a conversation. Im just not altogether here.
Im not OK, I tell people, but I am F.I.N.E. (!@#$d up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional)

ok is functioning

OK is knowing that when a wave of grief knocks me down that I will be able to get back up again, that I'm not permanently stuck in agony.

OK is knowing that I've made it this far and that I will make it farther still.

OK is knowing that I gave my husband my all for 30 years and that I have nothing to feel guilty about.

OK is knowing it's all right to laugh again and knowing Cliff would want me to.

OK is being able to look at his pictures with fond memories instead of crying my eyes out.

OK is knowing that there is a way through this, that it's not entirely hopeless even when it feels like it is and when I don't know what that way is yet.

OK is knowing I have today even though I've lost my past and can't see a future yet.

OK is a hard place to get to on the grief road, but it is only a stopping point on the journey - a place to rest before the next steps forward, a place to think about how far we have traveled when we didn't think we could - it's not the final destination.

Getting to "OK" takes different times for each of us - our loves and losses were unique so each of us will get to it when we can, on our own time-table, not somebody else's. And there is a world beyond "OK" and it's worth it not to become disheartened when you get to "OK" - don't fall prey to the question "Is this all there is?" There is more, and some of it is pretty damned wonderful.

Love and Hugs, Martha