Never knowing what to expect…

12 Nov

Oh how I cried, though no actual tears were ever produced.  My heart shattered into countless little pieces that would likely never again fit together in their original form.  Engulfed in a hollow abyss, an empty void; a spectator to all that transpired around me.  One is never prepared to receive bad news.  It’s not on my agenda. My daily routine is to wake up, make breakfast, get the kids ready for school, chores, chores, and more chores.  Tragedy isn’t relevant until it occurs and if you are fortunate it doesn’t take place frequently. So one is never truly prepared; therefore, your mind must do something to protect itself.  It must ensure that you do eventually recover. 

I put on a mask of bravery, a façade to make those around me believe I’m okay.  To prevent too many people from posing those uncomfortable questions, or give them reason to spend too much time relaying their sympathies.  It’s not that they aren’t appreciated, not that at all. It’s simply a coping mechanism.  Much later, I will remember those who surrounded me with love and offered their support and condolences, and I will be grateful.

When I am sitting alone at the table having a midnight cup of cocoa because sleep eludes me. That is when my vulnerability reveals itself and I will grieve.  When the pressure on my pipes finally burst and my tears can flow freely.  My broken heart can slowly start the healing process. How many nights will it take to mend?  I’ve discovered there’s no answer to that question.  Years may go by and it could all resurface.  And if that’s the case, I’ll always be sure to have my cocoa and tissues on hand.  

Leave a comment

Posted by on November 12, 2012 in Uncategorized


Tags: , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

Erika Fuego

To Love Yourself is your Greatest Revolution.

Wisdom is Found Through Experience

le Silence de Sion © 2012-2014

The Blabbermouth Blog

Literary Agent Linda Epstein's Yakkety Yakking

Chopping Potatoes

And other metaphors for motherhood

A Nine Pound Hammer....or a woman like you, either one of these will do

Sparks from the anvil while exploring life and America's treasures-South of the Mason Dixon line

Patrice Caldwell

Writer. Editor. Introvert Gone Wild.


I'm just a guy who decided to stop sleeping but kept dreaming. I'm Edward Redd and I write novels. Come get blown away by my imagination.

The Librarian Who Doesn't Say Shhh!

Opening books to open minds.

write meg!

Writing, Reading and Loving Like a Mother


She turns coffee into books so she can afford to buy more coffee. And more books.

And Then There Was One

a story of the truth

The Return of the Modern Philosopher

Deep Thoughts from the Shallow End of the Pool

The Jenny Mac Book Blog

Jenny Mac and the Man of Secrets

Break Room Stories

Service Industry Stories and More Since 2012

write something worth reading

do something worth writing

The Better Man Project ™

a journey into the depths

%d bloggers like this: