Yesterday a patient told me she had not been in lately because in the last year both her parents had passed away. I asked if they had been ill or if it was unexpected. Her elderly father had been sick, but she told me her mother's passing was sudden from a broken heart.
After so many times of having people not knowing what to say to me, it was my time to be silent. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I was holding my tongue. What I really wanted to say was, "If it were true that a broken heart could kill you, I would have died two years ago." Instead, I worked in silence with my own thoughts. I did not want to come across as uncaring about her circumstance, and certainly didn't want to sound as if I was trying to one up her with my story.
I can understand how it could happen. Grief is very physically and emotionally painful. There were times when I thought I was having a heart attack my heart hurt so bad. Add age and loneliness to the equation and you have a true love story, one partner unable to live without the other.
I may not have physically died when Curtis was killed, but a part of me did. I don't feel like the same person, in many ways I am not. The small things that used to bother me seem to be gone. I have learned to say no without guilt, I can't be everything for everyone. I now know how important it is to take care of me first. I am no good to anyone if I am not healthy myself, physically and emotionally. Although I can see the old me at times, I feel it is a flatter, blanker version of what I was.
Of course the biggest change is the sense of purpose this has given me, something I think I never really had before. I went about my life raising a family trying to be a good person, but not having a cause I was passionate about. Being an advocate for military and veterans has given me a sense of pride. It has been my way of mending my broken heart.
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