How do you mend a broken heart?

Mozart 1991 - 2006

Tonight there is a hole in my heart.
It is a wound so fresh that the pain still oozes out of it.
It hasn't clotted or scabbed over. It is fresh.
Today I lost a companion. A companion of almost 17 years.
He never judged me. He always forgave me.
He never thought any of my outfits made me look fat.
He met me at the door every night after work, he knew food was soon to follow.

Tonight I learn new euphemisms.
Lost. Passed away. Gone to sleep.
He is dead. He was sick. He gave me 17 years, I couldn't let him suffer.
He is dead. He is at peace. He looked beautiful when it was over.
His face was relaxed, there was no pain or worry.
No high blood pressure. No heart pounding in his chest.
No gasping for breath. He looked like he was a kitten again.

The hole in my heart oozes pain for me. But then I look at our other roommate.
His companion of almost 17 years. The one he was born next to.
The one he slept with every night, limbs intertwined.
They groomed each other as if they were one. Siamese twins with only spiritual bonds.
The hole in my heart spurts pain when I think of one sleeping alone tonight.

And I can't believe he's gone.
For weeks I have known this day was coming. Not quite this fast but soon.
But I still can't believe he's gone.
I have cried so many tears that I am dry.
Except for that hole in my heart, that still oozes.

I have a friend who lost a child. She says you don't get over loss.
Grief doesn't leave you. You just get used to it being there.
It becomes like a friend, like a chronic aching pain.
I have another that says your body treats grief like a wound.
It wraps it up in scar tissue to protect you from it.
To cushion the nerve endings from the constant pain.
I think that is right.
We shouldn't forget anyone that we loved enough to cause this much pain.

But I look forward to the wound beginning to heal.
I look forward to the scab and then the scar.
I look forward to saying his name without tears flooding my eyes.
Until then, I will do what the good author or actor should do.
I will memorize the pain.
I will study these feelings and file them away.
And one day, I will use them.
I will write a scene that will move people to tears,
And they will say, "I wonder how she could make that so real, how she could make those emotions so raw?"
And you and I will know where those feelings came from.
The last gift my companion gave to me.

For if you live without love, you can live without pain.
If you call that living.