A broken heart is when the little boy you raised the best you could, grows into a teenager; and one day when you’re tidying his closet, you reach into the pocket of his jean jacket only to pull out two large plastic bags filled with a hundred empty, smaller marijuana baggies. A broken heart is the beginning of a long tiring journey with no means to an end. This little boy, who once made the honor roll, now sold drugs to earn a bank roll.
A broken heart is when you call the police to your home, because you’ve found eleven baggies filled with marijuana in your son’s car, and you wanted to do the right thing, to keep addiction from spreading to the unwary. Only to have the police tell you to flush it down your own toilet, as it was not enough to hold him. As I watched the officers exit my front door, leaving the drugs behind, my heart slowly sunk, and has never risen again. For all they knew, I could have been the drug dealer.
A broken heart is when you receive a phone call a week after the fact, informing you that your son was arrested for having ecstasy in his trunk. Again, he was told that had it been twenty two pills, he’d be serving an automatic two years. His uncle paid $5,000.00 bail, when I would have allowed him to sit there with nothing but time to think long and hard about his actions. To look at him, you’d never know it. He’s handsome, with beautiful blue eyes. But mom can look through those eyes and into his soul. The little boy is crying, “I don’t know why I do this, I’m out of control.” He is now awaiting a second court appearance as the first was postponed. Though my heart is yet broken I see glimmers of hope, and perhaps a happy ending to a long journey that has taken its toll. He’s coming around, and changing his ways. I’ll love him unconditionally, but I won’t concede to his reckless and dangerous ways.
A broken heart smothers your very existence. The mending of a broken heart will come alas, when the promise I received in pray, finally comes to pass. Broken hearts aren’t forever.
A broken heart is when you call the police to your home, because you’ve found eleven baggies filled with marijuana in your son’s car, and you wanted to do the right thing, to keep addiction from spreading to the unwary. Only to have the police tell you to flush it down your own toilet, as it was not enough to hold him. As I watched the officers exit my front door, leaving the drugs behind, my heart slowly sunk, and has never risen again. For all they knew, I could have been the drug dealer.
A broken heart is when you receive a phone call a week after the fact, informing you that your son was arrested for having ecstasy in his trunk. Again, he was told that had it been twenty two pills, he’d be serving an automatic two years. His uncle paid $5,000.00 bail, when I would have allowed him to sit there with nothing but time to think long and hard about his actions. To look at him, you’d never know it. He’s handsome, with beautiful blue eyes. But mom can look through those eyes and into his soul. The little boy is crying, “I don’t know why I do this, I’m out of control.” He is now awaiting a second court appearance as the first was postponed. Though my heart is yet broken I see glimmers of hope, and perhaps a happy ending to a long journey that has taken its toll. He’s coming around, and changing his ways. I’ll love him unconditionally, but I won’t concede to his reckless and dangerous ways.
A broken heart smothers your very existence. The mending of a broken heart will come alas, when the promise I received in pray, finally comes to pass. Broken hearts aren’t forever.
