Heal My Broken Heart

Heal My Broken Heart

I think a defining moment in one’s life comes the instant we realize what we could have had. Not that it makes us who we are or that we should spend our lives beating ourselves up over it; however, when these moments come, we often find ourselves in shoulda-coulda-woulda land for at least a short period of time.I had returned to my hometown after what seemed like forever and a day. In reality, I had only been away a year and a half. My marriage had gone south, and having no close ties to anyone in Kentucky, I came home to Missouri to be near my family and start a new life. I was in a state of chaos and confusion – the emotional roller coaster that often accompanies separation and divorce. I had nary a clue as to what I wanted, where I was going, or even who I was at that point. My marriage had soured me on relationships, so I was certainly in no position to get involved, nor was I capable of recognizing what was there.I met Billy Joe at the town square. He just happened to sit on the bench beside me, and we started chatting. We hit it off and quickly became involved. I thought he was a great guy: sweet, intelligent, straight forward, brutally honest, yet a gentleman. With Billy, what you saw was what you got. I liked everything about him, and thought he was rather cute too. He was a very young looking 30, with smooth skin, long legs, a nice body, and long, shiny brown hair. He was here for work, had come from Arkansas, and I thought I had hit the jackpot with this sweet southern rock charmer.I knew I was falling completely, totally, hopelessly head-over-heels for this man. Maybe I couldn’t accept that right then. I know I was scared of being hurt again; jaded by one too many loves-gone-wrong. So, I kept my mouth shut. I never told Billy how I felt. Somewhere in my mind, I had convinced myself that this was not a serious relationship; it was more of a fling or friends with benefits kind of thing.I started seeing other guys. I mean Billy and I were not exactly a couple, so I didn’t think it would matter. The first clue that it was an issue became clear when he saw me with someone else. The look on his face said it all. Still, he never mentioned it and neither did I. We just went on like usual. Eventually, I moved in with someone I did not really even like just because he wanted me too. I still saw Billy when I could, but eventually our meetings were few and far between.I missed him all the time, but was still afraid to admit how I felt. Eventually, those hidden feelings backfired on me. Billy was planning to go home and came to see me. I was a wreck, unsure of anything in my life. I didn’t really think he loved me, so I was ready to just give up and move on. His last words to me as he left that day were “Who knows? Maybe in a year or so, we’ll be married.” I didn’t know what to say, so I silently watched as he walked away.Billy knew how to get a hold of me, and for a while, I held onto hope that he would…don’t we all? By now, I had realized my mistake; I knew he loved me and kept asking myself why I had not run after him or left town with him? His failure to communicate in the beginning or to get in touch afterward was heartbreaking. Nevertheless, I could not lay it all on Billy’s shoulders; after all, I hadn’t said a word either.For a long time, I moped around – depressed, angry, and very frustrated by what I felt as life throwing one more injustice in my direction. Yes, it was a pity party, and I was the honored guest. Two months after he left town, I found out I was pregnant with Billy Joe’s baby. I was joyous but terribly sad as well. I had no idea how to let Billy know and it mattered very little anyway, as our daughter only survived to the fifth month before I lost her.After the miscarriage, I tried to rebuild my life. I tried to move on from all the heartache and sorrow. I started working more, meeting people, and doing whatever I could to rebuild the happiness I felt I needed and deserved.A few months later, I ran into a mutual friend who told me Billy had never made it back to Arkansas. He had gone to a bar for his final night here and was killed by a knife-wielding maniac when he tried to break up a fight.Since then, it has been 6 years. Time has helped ease the pain and has made things easier to deal with. The good memories are there, and I often miss Billy and wonder what if…I have moved on in life, have remarried, have a family, a career, and have found the happiness I sought.I found that time does heal the pain, but you have to work at it a bit and look ahead to find that bright light in your life after such pain. I could have sat back, wishing, wanting, and holding on to a past I had no control over. I could have allowed all the grief to swallow me up. Instead, knowing I had to get on with my own life, I made sure to embrace every opportunity to do so. Sure, I still felt pain and sadness, but it helped tremendously to stop and appreciate the small things in life for their simple beauty. Getting out there and living each day the best I could made time pass easily and pain fade over time. Most of all, I learned never to bottle up my thoughts and emotions. It was good to talk; to remember. Eventually, I could celebrate Billy Joe’s life through the good memories and knew that by moving ahead in my own, I was honoring him.