A Broken Heart

Yesterday, we had another snow day, and they are just bittersweet to me. I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and loneliness on these days, and we are about to get another 2 feet tomorrow and Saturday, so I feel like my little "funk" will continue.

Needless to say, yesterday, I was home with the girls, and I decided to do a craft with them. (As I have noticed some others indicate, this past year, I have defintiely felt like a sub-par Mom, in that the television has been on a great deal, and I just haven't been able to connect with them as much as others may think I could/should. I can't tell you how many people say, "Your two little ones need their Mommy so much," and while I know this is true, I can't help but feel some guilt in that I can't be as emotionally available to them as I may have been).

I digress.... but this is what prompted my craft activity with them. We decided to make hearts for Valentine's Day, in which I ended up doing the majority of the cutting and taping onto the windows, and I must say, it does look really cute. As I was cutting the hearts (I did it the "old school" way, of folding the paper over and then cutting half the heart), I realized, that is indeed how my heart feels.... broken and in half. While the pain has definitely lessened, it is still there, and I just feel so broken. Broken because I can't fix this pain; broken because my heart has never before felt so much pain, anguish and sadness. My heart really is broken, and I guess as with any part of your body that is broken, time will heal, but I just feel like this one is taking a long time, or far longer than I ever expected.

Until today when I spoke with someone at work (my former Spanish teacher, as I teach at the same school I attended in high school), and I was going to talk to her about something related to a student, and after awhile, she just asked how I was doing, and if I was ever going to try again. Only certain people can ask that question, and it just felt so easy and natural to answer her. I should have known that she understood the pain. She went on to tell me that twenty-five years earlier, she lost her son after some complications, and had to deliver him. As she recalled parts of her story with tears in her eyes, we both just understood so clearly how broken our hearts were and are. Even twenty-five years later, she said she still thinks about him and what happened, and I guess as always, that brought me some perspective.

It has only been seven months; I lost a son; I lost Austin; my heart isn't going to heal over a couple of months, or even a couple of years. It might be broken for awhile; I hope that the intense physical pain will continue to lessen, but in talking with her this morning, I realized I am always going to have a piece of my heart ache for my son, as I am sure all of us will. While I may continue to have a broken heart, I am so blessed to not be broken in spirit because although the depths of this pain is unimaginable to most; I do know that I have learned so much from this experience. I know that I will continue to learn from this experience, and perhaps that will be my next post... what I have learned so far from the past several months.

Until then... I hope that I can take this snow storm for what it is worth, enjoy the time with my husband and two little girls, and enjoy the complete and whole hearts that cover our kitchen windows.