If “home is where the heart is,” then a part of my heart lives in Heaven.
And suddenly it all makes sense.
The reasons why I can feel such joy and pain at the same time.
Because every time what’s left of my heart beats, it’s working double time.
It beats once for everything I love here on this earth.
My husband. My family. My dog.
My hopes for another baby someday.
And then it beats again for what I’ve lost.
His future, and part of my own.
Over and over.
A piece of my heart lives in Heaven.
But I’m still here, left to love what’s been left behind. What I can still hold on to.
And loving, more than anything, what I can’t hold at all.
At least until my heart is whole again.