There was once a young woman who had a perfect and beautiful heart.
She used to show off her heart to anyone that would look at it. Everyone said it was beautiful and perfect.
One day she came across an old woman, and told the old woman she had a perfect heart and would she like to see it?
The old woman said yes she would and agreed that yes it was perfect, but beautiful was subjective. Then she showed the young woman her heart.
It was old, worn, pieces missing, holes and scars and mismatched patches all over it.
The young woman asked why she had so many holes and patches and scars?
The old woman said” When I find someone I love, I give them a piece of my heart. When others give me a piece of theirs, it fills the holes.”
The young woman asked about the scars. The old woman told her that the scars were the pieces that had been taken back…
The young woman then took a piece of her heart and filled one of the holes in the old woman’s heart…. The old woman then took part of her heart and filled the hole in the young woman’s heart.
The old woman said,” Now your heart is truly beautiful. because a part has been given away freely and a part has been given freely in return.”
I loved him so much, and was loved so much in return. I had given most of my heart to him and my heart was made up of so much of his.
He was my world, my life, the yin to my yang.
And then he died. With him, the parts of my heart that were his died as well. I could not live without a heart, there was nothing left but a hole, and so I died as well.
But I was not allowed to go away… I had family and many friends who surrounded me; old friends and new; who loved me and who gave me pieces of their hearts to keep me alive.
I have been given so many pieces of so many hearts.
I am able to love because of all the friends and family that love me so much… They keep me alive even though I feel dead so much of the time.
Some days I feel so empty. The hole in my heart hurts so much from all the pieces of my heart that I gave to him.
Some days I feel so full from all the parts of my heart given to me by my children and my friends.
I don’t understand how my heart can be so full of love and life, yet feel so empty and lost… the pain of losing him overwhelms everything at times. The hole has not scarred over.
I feel loved everyday, from so many people. It fills my heart and allows me to keep going on until that scar heals over enough to allow me to give back to others again.
But a part of me died with him that day.
Edited to add: I took another’s post from another website and copied/pasted and reworded what was appropriate for me. I deleted those things that weren’t applicable -but this all reads true for who I am and how I feel.