A Saddened Heart

I have been hiding a saddened heart for a few days now. I am pretty good at hiding emotions and trust me, that is not said with any ounce of pride.  In fact, it is the primary reason I decided to launch this blog.  

First let me tell you a story.  A gorgeous, bright and sunny Sunday morning. My daughter and I were up bright and early to head out to get some french pastries for breakfast and a quick stop off at our local drugstore to pick up a few essentials. I was in a fantastic mood then boom, goodbye happy and hello sad.

As we were about to enter the shop, I noted a homeless man, I am guessing in his 60s, standing near the entranceway, eating a can of beans with his hands.  I won't go into his appearance, his belongings he had with him, etc, because I think the description given is enough.  In fact, it is pretty much all I can remember now - his dirty and worn hands digging into the open can of beans. 

My first thought was to help him then and there but then for some reason, I had a hard time making eye contact. My throat started to swell up, my eyes began to fill with tears... I just kept walking.

Once inside the shop, I took a moment to compose myself and thought, "Ok, on your way out see if there was anything you can do to help".  Didn’t happen.  By the time I left he was already gone. 

This was 3 days ago and I am still thinking about him. I went to bed last night feeling gutted and hoping he was somewhere safe and warm.  

Why am I writing about this I ask myself. Well it brings me back to the reason I started this blog in the first place:  to get stuff out of my head and onto the paper (granted, virtual paper) instead of letting it eat a hole in my brain (and my heart).

See here’s the deal. Every time I see an elderly man or woman who is in need of support I am immediately looking at them through my orphan eyes.  I long to take care of their broken hearts and spirits, to get them the help they deserve and when I fail to do so I get bitter with myself.  And so lies the unresolved – my belief that I failed as a child; I was unable to save my own parents from their suffering. 

I have walked this earth for 18 years now with a heavy weight; the loss of two beautiful souls who loved me unconditionally.  Over time, I have adapted and the memories have faded but it is a moment like this, when something triggers a heartache, that they come back to swallow me up. My eyes still look for my mother and father in the crowd.  18 long years. Do we ever stop searching for those who are gone?