For the last ten weeks, my heart-felt as if a thick fog had taken it hostage, allowing only sadness to escape. I found myself having a tough time sleeping, often waking up throughout the night, thinking about the things I wanted so desperately to change, then realizing it was beyond my ability to change them. Concentrating on just about anything was and is still a challenge, and retaining, almost next to impossible. The lack of energy continues to tug at my body. Tears flow unexpectedly releasing the sorrow my heart feels; sometimes when I am alone and sometimes when I am with others.
I decided to write this story as a way of reaching out to all those who have suffered a loss of a loved one. For those struggling to understand, for those who might feel guilty, for those who feel empty, and for those who desperately want to fill the holes in their broken hearts. I wrote this story to let those hurting hearts know that I am here; here to listen and here to let you know you are not alone.
Deep sorrow hurts. It hurts us physically, and it hurts us emotionally. It hurts to the point that time seems to stand still, paralyzing our hearts from moving forward.
A wise woman once told me that sorrow can either make us or break us. This sweet woman who was born into a large family was the last to make her journey to heaven. She had suffered more broken hearts, shed enough tears to fill an ocean, and walked through the thickest of fogs, but yet found something to smile about each day. I once asked her how she handled the multitude of grief that rushed into her heart. I needed to know what her secret was.
Her Secret…
” Cindy, when we lose someone we love, our hearts break. Each time I lost a sister, a brother, their husbands, wives, nieces, and nephews, my mother, and father, a piece of me died too. In the beginning, it was tough. Sometimes, I felt like I would never feel better but I did, with time. It was during those dark times, that I made up my mind to find something or do something that made me smile every day. I still missed my family and my heart still hurt, but each day that I found things to smile about or made someone laugh, I felt better. Why do you think I tell all those silly jokes? We can let the grief take over or we can find peace. It takes time for our hearts to heal. Some hearts never heal. And, that is sad. Yes, our lives are never the same, but we can go on if we choose. Live life and be happy.”
I have been thinking a lot about those wise words. Time is a healer if we allow it to be. But on those days when it’s hard to even think, I will find something to smile about, and I will find someone to bring happiness to. Although my sister’s memories will always live in my heart and my love for her will never end, I choose to find peace.
The wise woman whose words were told to me, was my precious Mother, Roberta Brodt.
My name is Cynthia Jean DeLuca. I am a wife, mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. I believe in following your dreams and never giving up! Helping others is very important to me, for when we help others, we help ourselves. It is my hope to make a difference in the lives of children and grown-ups. My hobbies are writing, quilting and painting. I am a novice at all three but, enjoy them immensely. I grew up on a farm with no indoor plumbing and no heat in our upstairs. I love life and have a very strong faith. Working on inspirational short stories for grown- ups. Love to speak on topics that touch my heart.
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