There Are Many Ways a Heart is Broken

My love, my husband has had many mini strokes and TIA’s. All in the same area of his brain and thankfully he has survived them so that I can still talk to him, aggravate him, laugh with him, go places with him, live life with him. The downside of those strokes is when I realize what it has taken from him, from us and when those times pop up my heart breaks and I go through a period of mourning for what was lost. But I have learned to move forward while mending those little cracks that happen.

My heart is broken but I will sew it up

With colored threads and bright cloth patches

And pretty glass baubles

I will dance with the gypsies

And have tea with cookies

I will giggle and laugh in all of the inappropriate times

Making people wonder

My heart is broken but I will color it how I wish

With all colors from wild bold to gentle pastels

I will paint my canvas with sadness and joy

Failures and triumphs

I will stand back and admire how life comes together

The swirls and loops

The contrasts and complementaries

In all a masterpiece

My heart is broken but I will make it grow

Like an untidy garden that has spontaneous bursts of brilliant beauty and tiny surprises

I will lay on a blanket and stare at the sky

Watching the clouds move and morph

Then stare into the grass to watch the ants

March with purpose

And wonder if there is one that marches like me that is

Sporadic and rebellious, stopping to smell the roses spicy and sweet

And then I will wiggle my toes in the sun warmed dirt.

My heart is broken but I will surround myself with music

Symphonies so grand, childhood songs, and everything that sings to me.

The music will swirl around me begging me to move,

Swaying into the rhythm I match it beat for beat

Letting my voice speak in a language of sounds and emotions

And calming me like the quiet after the storm

I pull my favorite music around me, a warm quilt of familiarity

And hide for a while

My heart is broken but in the end I choose how to glue back the pieces

And what I use to repair the parts that are shattered

Or leave them

So that when the sun shines through or

While I dance in the firelight

I can see the beauty in the shadows.

Several year have passed since writing this. He and I have talked about the toll that the strokes have taken on both of us. There is a better understanding as we share our perspectives, our "It is what it is." moments. What still hurts is that I am the repository of our memories and when I share a memory only to find out that it no longer exits for him, I grieve for him and for me. I take a moment to hold the lost memory, cherish it, and gently put it back into storage. Then I move on, patch my little crack with new memories that are being created every day.

I have reposted this from my blog "The Geography of Me" at https://wolfpathfinder.wordpress.com. I have permision to use the beautiful photo from the talented photographer Jessica (Ross) Martinez of Projekt J at https://www.deviantart.com/allgreenjello.