‘It gets easier,’ she said.

Not because she knows, but because she wants it be true. I know that she cares, but I’m also aware that my grief is awkward for her, inconvenient.  She wishes my tears away: ‘It will get easier.’

But the truth is, it doesn’t.

I understand why she would like to think that it will get easier – perhaps it will seem that way – but anyone who has loved and lost has learnt that it’s simply not true. Loss doesn’t get easier. It still hurts just the same. The pain is still there every day. My heart aches as much as it did months ago. Losing two daughters isn’t something that gets easier. That doesn’t change.

But I do.

I get better at hiding the pain. Better at faking a smile. Better at holding back the tears. Better at getting on with each new day. Better at being grateful for what I had and still have. Better at holding on to hope, faith and love in the midst of it all.

I get stronger.

I’m no weightlifter at all, but even I know that lifting those heavy weights doesn’t get any easier. Each day that they train, they build their muscles, they get stronger. Even though they may make lifting those weights look easier over time, we all know that it’s not. If it was a weight we had to bear, we would crumble.

So, no. It doesn’t get easier. I just have to keep getting stronger. And I am. And I will. But please know that it’s not easy.


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