I am not an emotional person.
I’m anal, direct, loyal. Not emotional. Not too much. My heart is locked up safe, nowhere near my sleeve. But during the month of January, while I drove to and from the hospital, in a time warp, terrified that my best friend wouldn’t live to come home, a Christina Perri CD played relentlessly, on repeat in my car.
She made me cry and cry and cry. It was good therapy for me to let it all out (while driving). I let out all of the heartache that I held in at the damn hospital. Perri’s songs on the album Lovestrong are almost all about love and hearts. Here are some of her lyrics that took me down again and again.
How the hell does a broken heart get back together when it’s torn apart?
Can the lonely take the place of you?
Put your arms around me and I’m home.
And he’s the one that you were born to love.
Today I’m gonna write a sad song, gonna make it really long, so that everyone can see that I’m very unhappy.
Today is the magical twelve-week mark, the goal we set, the day we wanted to reach during the slow, dreadful days of waiting to feel better, though he kept feeling worse, while I sat by and watched in horror, helpless. Today is relief day. My heart and gut aren’t twisted in worry. That nagging what if has faded. Teaching and grading and driving my car have all slipped back into normal tasks, unblemished by worry that I’ll need to rush away, back to dread.
I’m hopeful. My best friend just went for a jog. Incredible. I think I get to keep him.