The Invisible Scars

The day I dread more than any other day is here. I've been up since 7 and I've found tears in my eyes about 3 times. It's not going to be an easy day.

Last night, I contemplated what I wanted to write about today. It didn't take long to know what I wanted to share. I realized last night that I have a scar, except it can't be seen. I've heard people say that scars have a story, or scars are the road map that shows where you've been, but since my scar can't be seen, I have to tell you about it.

My scar sits in the middle of my chest, right above my heart. Or at least where my heart used to be. My heart was violently ripped from my body and given to my son when he died. He took it to Heaven with him. In its place, I was given a broken heart to use until I can meet him in Heaven and he can return my heart to me. I know he has my heart because I can feel him holding it. Every now and then, I feel flutters as he gives it a hug and thinks of me.

I wish my scar would show up on my skin so people could see that I've been cut open. How are they supposed to know how much I hurt if they can't see the scar? How are they supposed to know that something so precious was taken from me? Something I love so much and can't live without? How are people supposed to comfort my pain when only I know that I hurt?

It hurts every day, but today, it hurts worse. Like a birthday, anniversary or holiday, we remember important days. They are milestones on our journey. This day is an Angelversary. The day my son died.

Died.

Gone.

My arms used to ache to hold him. Now, my heart hurts as I try to remember the smell of his head, the sound of his gurgley giggles, and the way he breathed when he slept. I can spend hours staring out the window at nothing just thinking about him. When I go to sleep at night, I don't dream about him anymore. That hurts. I can go for weeks without crying. Not months. Just weeks.

I'm keeping myself busy. I'm living life to the fullest. But like a cup that has a leak, no matter how much you fill it up, eventually it's going to be empty whether you like it or not. Since getting a new cup isn't an option and this is the one I'm stuck with, I can try to patch it up and pray it holds or I can just keep trying to fill it faster than it empties. My broken heart leaks. It leaks pain, it leaks tears and sorrow. Patch with a joke. Patch with a happy moment... Patch all you like, the scar is still there.

Whether you can see it or not.