Life gets better
“Just wait until now becomes then. You’ll see how happy we were.” — Susan Sontag
What can happen in a week
While you lie lifeless
And unidentified
In a coma and
Nobody knows where you are?
The friends who left
You minutes from death,
At the ER
Will speed
Back into the night
To never be found but
You’ll always be grateful
They saved your life.
Your parents will wonder
At first if you’re
Missing, or kidnapped,
Dead, or alive or
Simply unable to
Make your way home.
Your children, wise souls,
Won’t believe the white lies
That Mommy is safe
Out of town
Somewhere nice
She’ll be home soon
I promise
To make everything right.
After two nights of
Searching and pacing
The streets
Your parents will describe
Your white blouse
And brown vest.
Your long hair
And wide smile
To a young police sergeant
And pray for the best.
The nurses, meanwhile,
Will change your IV,
Brush out your long hair and
Print your limp fingers
To reveal the secrets
Of the pretty lost girl
In room 204
Who’s still in a coma
While she goes through withdrawal.
You’ll wake up sober
Seven days later
Grateful
For sunlight
Streaming into your room,
The birdsongs at sunrise
And the love
Of a family
That never gives up.
Life gets better, you’ll cry:
Can’t you give me just a second
To get myself right?
Can’t you give me just a minute to
Remember that night?
Can’t you give me back an hour
To spend it in his arms?
Can’t you give me one more day
To live without harm?
What can happen in five years
Of sobriety that you’ll need
All the more when
You relapse again
A lifetime from now?
You’ll become a regular
At meetings
At times with
Your children in tow
Teaching them
From experience
How life can get better and where
They’ll never want to go.
You’ll meet a fellow addict
In recovery and fall
Crazy in love
Build a new life
And make big plans to spend
Your lives together
Simply, completely and
Always in love.
You’ll go on vacations
Run kids to soccer, attend
Graduations and
Write tender poems
About the hopes
You have
For your children,
One girl and one boy.
You’ll find a church family
And grow in your faith
You’ll make your amends
And live day by day
You’ll meet new friends
Who love and support you
In every way.
Life gets better, you’ll cry:
Can’t you give me just a second
To get myself right?
Can’t you give me just a minute to
Remember that night?
Can’t you give me back an hour
To spend it in his arms?
Can’t you give me one more day
To live without harm?
What can happen in the last days
Of your husband’s life
That will break you
And send you back
To the streets to
Bury your grief?
You’ll help him
Plan his funeral
Pick verses and caskets
Sing favorite hymns
And choose the spot
Where later you’ll visit
His grave and
Scream at the loss.
As he breathes
His last breaths
You’ll call both
His children
To his hospital room
Including the son
He’s asked not to see
But he’ll thank you for
All of it and
Weep his goodbyes.
You’ll watch as
His organs begin to collapse
His liver, his kidneys
And finally his heart
You’ll sit through
The service
Stay strong for the kids
Who’ve grown up
And moved out
Leaving you to
come home
To this cold,
Empty house where
You’ll promptly fall apart.
You’ll pick up the phone
Call a dealer you knew
Buy a small bag of coke
And blow your sobriety
In one easy line
Erasing your grief
Ignoring the guilt
And turning your back
On the life that you’ve built.
Life gets better, you’ll cry:
Can’t you give me just a second
To get myself right?
Can’t you give me just a minute to
Remember that night
Can’t you give me back an hour
To spend it in his arms
Can’t you give me one more day
To live without harm?
What can happen in the 15 minutes
It takes to plead guilty
To the judge
For another public intox
In criminal court?
That’s 20 and counting
Arrests on your record
But what’s the big deal?
You’ll ask with dismay.
I’m 44, that’s normal
20 arrests spread out
Over so many years
Of living and drinking
And running about.
It’s really not normal,
The judge will reply
We’re getting you help
With rehab and counseling
Meetings and sponsors.
You’ll follow this schedule
Or end up in jail.
You’ll be angry
Indignant, and say
To his face,
I don’t want to go there
I can’t stand that place.
Counseling’s for kids
Not for ladies like me.
I’ll see people I know,
My kids’ friends and others
They’lll judge me
And condemn me
No way.
He’ll slam down his gavel
And repeat the fair sentence
While rows of defenders
Up next watch in awe.
You should be
Embarrassed
But mostly you’re livid
At him and the others
Not yourself, or your actions
It’s his fault not yours.
It’s mercy he’s showing
Grace and compassion
But you’ll see it
As judgment and
Unfair directives.
You’ll walk out
Annoyed and resentful, with
Plans to fight it
But later calm down
And make
Your first meeting
And then a few more
Until its a habit.
Life gets better, you’ll cry:
Can you give me just a second
To get myself right?
Can you give me just a minute to
Remember that night
Can you give me back an hour
To spend it in his arms
Can you give me one more day
To live without harm?
What can happen in 8 months
Of sobriety after
Following court orders
And coming to thank
That judge after all?
You’ll repair broken
Friendships, make
up with
Your sister you’ve hid
From for years.
Reprioritize family
And focus anew
On buying a house
And living a
Clear-headed life.
You’ll babysit grandkids
And take them all swimming.
You’ll be there to witness
The birth of
The youngest
And watch with
New eyes how
Your daughter has
Grown as a mother
With joy.
You’ll come to
Like counseling,
Take pride in your progress,
Help others recover
Look forward to
Meetings and
Even somehow
The exploring of feelings.
You’ll find a new job,
And buy a new car
Work weekends and
Evenings and
Get back your license
And drive without fear
For the first time in years.
You’ll meet a new man
And accept his proposal
You’ll tell him
Your story the
Good and the bad
He’ll love you
For all of It
And still take your hand.
Life gets better, you’ll cry:
Can you give me just a second
To get myself right?
Can you give me just a minute to
Remember that night
Can you give me back an hour
To spend it in his arms
Can you give me one more day
To live without harm?
This poem is for Pam. I wrote it for a local charity event that paired local artists with recovering addicts to help tell their stories. All proceeds from the event went to Starfish Project of Richland County, which provides local scholarships for treatment and recovery.
