I remember Senior year in High School & wanting that Toyota pick up so badly. And my Dad sitting me down at the patio table in the backyard one Sunday morning explaining to me all of the reasons why I could not afford it and thinking then that my heart was broken.
I remember driving home after my first year of college having left my roommate to drive the opposite direction – crying & singing along to the mixed tape that we had made in duplicate so that we would be listening to the same songs on the way home and thinking after all that we had been through and survived our first year as college students how it was that I could possibly make it through the summer without her and thinking then that my heart was broken,
I remember coming home to the first place I ever shared with a boyfriend after spending the night with girlfriends to find him with another girl in our home. I remember him introducing me as his “roommate” and after somehow standing my ground and putting them both in their place, I remember hiding in the bathroom as he gathered his things, silently crying and thinking then that my heart was broken
I remember, years later when another boyfriend who I learned too late was strung out on drugs disappeared. I stayed up all night, driving around, calling friends and racing home to see if they had just been a misunderstanding – only to find the house exactly the way I had left it. In the wee early morning, I packed my things and drove 50 miles back home to my mothers house. I stayed in bed for weeks crying – refusing to eat or talk with friends. And I remember then thinking my heart was broken.
I remember the day my Grandfather died. How I spoke to him the night before, promising to bring him a crossword puzzle when I visited the next day. I remember the sound of his voice clear as day, “Hello, sweetheart” as he answered the phone in his hospital room. And I remember my Father calling early the next morning to tell me his Dad had passed away in the night. I remember the sound of my Father inhaling a cigarette and picturing him sitting on his back patio all alone on that cool spring morning. I remember the funeral. Sitting between my father and my husband, feeling my strong, bold, Father shaking beside me. I remember feeling sad that my Grandfather was no longer with us, but even more sad that my Father had lost HIS Father. And I remember thinking then that my heart was broken.
I remember the day I brought my sweet puppy Maggie home. How small she was, how from the very beginning she was my best friend like we’d known each other our whole lives and like she wasn’t a dog yet just another person. I remember how smart she was how she always knew when I was sad and how she would cuddle up in a ball right alongside me. I remember she loved to go on car rides and to visit friends. And I remember the night that we went to bed just as always. But in the middle of that night she had her first seizure of six that by middle of the following day she would be gone forever. With no explanation. I remember I lay on the couch, sobbing in wretched pain for days. And I remember feeling then that my heart was broken.
I remember the day my RE called for the last time. To tell me our final embryo transfer was not successful and based on what we knew, I would never be able to achieve pregnancy. I remember how kind, but matter-of-fact she sounded. And how I couldn’t speak at all in return. Not a word.
And I KNOW my heart was completely, irrevocably broken. For I have felt nothing since but anger, sadness and despair. Things I know do not come from a heart, but the empty space which remains.