Unbreak Your Heart

I was estranged from my parents for a very long time. It began with a single comment made by my mother in a testy phone conversation about my sister.

“You think you’re so smart.”

So, I understand estrangement and how little it takes to set it in motion. Practically everyone I know has a story of estrangement. “I haven’t seen my brother in fifteen years.” “My daughter hates me and says she never wants to see me again.” Comments on women-only Facebook discussion groups are detailed and sad, lamenting and pitiful, until someone chimes in with advice to do your best, keep the door open, and unbreak your heart.

The holidays make estrangement seem like a fatal cancer. And an epic failure. If you were a better person, you would be well. If you hadn’t failed so miserably, your table would be crowded with relatives who traveled from around the world on their knees to eat your mashed potatoes.

If you feel this way, put that feeling in a box, wrap it in a plastic bag from Target, and bury it in the front yard.

You are not responsible for the decisions other people make. You aren’t responsible for their happiness or sadness – unless you truly are, like if you’ve been taken to court and been proven to be horrible in some way. Short of that, people choose.

I have chosen to leave people. People have chosen to leave me. That is what happens in a life.

In the morning, the sun will come up over the lake and I will see its light over the house across the street. The dog that sleeps on my side of the bed will stir and I will get up and go downstairs to let her and her brother dog outside. Then I will make coffee. I will chart my day. I will love the people who love me and some that don’t. But my heart will be whole and mine and happy for the day in front of me.

It wasn’t always this way, but it is now.

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Photo by Fadi Xd on Unsplash