Shattered

In 2004, my dad died.

And my heart was shattered into tiny pieces.

Somehow, I picked up those pieces, stuck them back together, and found a way to keep going with a broken, pieced together heart.

In 2013, I lost the best pet a person could ever have. There was something very special about Molly. I loved her so, and she loved me.

And again my heart was shattered into tiny pieces.

Somehow, again, I managed to put the pieces together, not nearly as neatly this time, and found a way to keep limping forward.

This weekend, once again, I got news that shattered my heart into thousands of tiny pieces.

This time, though, there is no hope of putting them back together.

This time, my heart will have no way to heal.

And one cannot live with a broken heart.

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About becmom45

Wife of one, mom of four, mom-in-law to two, grammy to one precious little boy; lover of snow, autumn, pumpkins, cats, books, baking, Charles Wysocki puzzles, Christmas; honest, raw author who hopes what is written here enlightens and educates those fortunate enough to not understand the demons chronicled.
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