My heart breaks, again,
As a piece of glass shatters, fragments scatter,
Never to be put back together the same way,
So it is with my heart.
Hope was once there, to follow the pain,
Like a flower blooming in the spring,
Hope that somehow I could make sense of this puzzle,
Hope that just having hope would make a difference,
And hope that by wanting something with all of my being,
I could make it come true.
But, my heart breaks again, and this time, for the first time,
I don’t see a flower in bloom,
Or the sun breaking through the clouds after the rain,
I can’t find, see or feel hope.
I am not able to will myself to begin picking up the fragments,
To begin building up that hope, making sense of my shattered feelings,
Only to have that hope taken away in an instant,
Scattered about like ashes in the wind.
Then, a thought creeps into my pain,
An image forms in my mind that makes my heart burst with love,
A sound begins to echo in my ear, the sound of laughter as sweet as cotton candy,
The image, the infectious laughter, the indomitable spirit,
They belong to our sweet, sweet, girl.
And slowly, ever so slowly,
I begin to feel the smallest bit of hope,
Willing me to pick up the pieces I can find,
To put them back together,
It will look different when it is put back together,
There will be fewer pieces, spaces left unfilled,
Jagged edges that cannot be smoothed,
It will be a new, different puzzle to complete,
And when completed will reflect someone who has changed,
That has learned that among the deepest, darkest moments of despair,
There can be, will be and must be hope.
Hope that somehow sense will be made of this puzzle,
Hope that just having hope will make a difference,
And hope that by wanting something so much,
I can and will make it come true.
Jane, Isabella’s mom