It Will Get Better

It will get better.

This is my new mantra. I have whispered it to myself many times in the past year. I have chanted it through agonized tears.  I have proclaimed it confidently to my kids. I have asked it in question form to my friends (it will get better, right?). I have used it to encourage my family members. I have held onto it with both fists, as I desperately try to stop myself from slipping down the mountain of hope into the bubbling stink-pit of grief.

Those four words hold a huge lesson for me. I have always struggled with pessimism.  I don't always see the good in things, I expect the worst.

I am learning and relearning:  it will get better.

No matter the situation, no matter how hard things feel.  No matter if there is another job rejection, and Sister can't talk on the phone anymore because she says it is too hard to talk on the phone and breathe at the same time.  No matter if I go visit and it's so very hard to watch her be in pain.

It didn't get better in the way I wanted it to. She didn't get better. But life is slowly getting better.

She isn't having a hard time breathing anymore. She isn't needing more medicine because the pain is just too much.

She kept telling us with a chuckle, "Keep calm and carry on."

On a bad day I tell myself, "It will get better."

On a good day I tell myself, "Look, it's getting better!"

Today I feel a strong foothold on the mountain.  The stink-pit seems far below, almost out of sight.  A memory of Sue this morning made me laugh.

No, really.  It's getting better.