“I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken, and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken pieces as long as I lived.” Margaret Mitchell
If you’re lucky, and like me, you’ve been in love more than once in your lifetime. Which means, of course, that you’ve probably had your heart broken. Maybe more than once. Perhaps even multiple times by the same person, but obviously, I’m projecting my own history here. It’s my blog.
Do you remember that first heartbreak? I’ll never forget being certain that I was going to die. It just didn’t seem possible that I could survive the fierce assault to my heart and soul. I couldn’t eat. Or sleep. I replayed all the moments leading up to the big brush off, trying to place my finger on the precise instant when things went wrong. I thought that if I could identify what happened, I would be able to prevent myself from experiencing this emotional and physical anguish ever again. Yeah, right.
Since that time, more than 25 years ago, I’ve learned a few things. Important lessons about hearts and love and the ability of a heart to love again. I now understand that there are people who enter our lives (and hearts) as temporary residents. Not everything is supposed to last forever. Pieces get taken. And given.
I’ve realized that the people who have broken my heart have given me far more than they ever took. I learned that the capacity to love is something to be treasured, a gift beyond any other. I believe that the heart is one of the few things which can be rebuilt from pieces and be stronger than ever.