Heartbreak is an undeniable walk of life, as for mine, I remember every detail. When my children have their own, I’ll smile and tell them of you.
There will come a day when I’ll be cleaning my kitchen in the house that has become my home. A home through love and prayer, filled with a family of my own. That’s when I will stop cleaning long enough to hear the muffled sound that leaks out from behind my child’s door. This sound will bring me back to a feeling I remember so well. I will think back to our young and foolish love that led to a heartbreak I’ll never forget. As I think back fondly on all of our memories I will listen to the dreaded tears on the other side of my child’s door, and this is what I’ll say:
I won’t tell them that it will get better, but I will reassure them that it’s okay to be sad.
Countless times during my trial of despair I was told, “It will get better, just give it time.” Not once did that bring me comfort or value. I’ll remember back to the days it felt as though time stood still. Those empty words didn’t dry my tears nor my pillow case. My heart still continued to ache in a way I thought no one would understand. As my child continues to sob over a love that was lost I will know their pain in a way no one knew mine. Although, I won’t pretend to understand their first heartbreak.
I won’t waste my words convincing my child that I know what they are going through, but instead open my heart to letting them explain.
In the beginning I wasn’t ready to talk about it, I felt as though I had failed. I was mourning a loss I thought I could have prevented. It’s a delicate stage to be so fragile. I won’t push them to talk, but I will let them know I am all ears when they are ready.
I won’t bad mouth the one who broke their heart.
As hard as it will be to see my child so hurt and so broken, I’ll remember the time when I still thought the world of you. I didn’t blame you for breaking my heart, I still don’t. I won’t talk down on the one they love, but instead share a memory or two of you and I. You were the first to break my heart, but it still pained me to hear what others thought of you. I knew your intention was never to hurt me, so I’ll bite my tongue instead while I listen to stories my child has to offer.
I won’t tell my child when to move on.
You cannot set a deadline based on the day you’ll be okay again, I won’t expect my child to either. I will hold my child every night until they decide they are strong enough to hold themselves again. I won’t smother them, as I’ve felt in the past, but I will shelter them with love until their mended heart has love enough for itself. I will be understanding and patient, because I know they will not always be patient with themselves. Someday they may think they’ve moved on, but find themselves in a relapse. I will love them through it, knowing I had an addiction once before too.
I find myself thinking of you often, occasionally I have a relapse of my own. Someday I will tell my children of you, they’ll ask about my first heartbreak and I’ll tell them of my first love.