A Thousand Broken Pieces

Death is the best lesson in life. Death teaches us to live, for the short amount of time we are here. Death teaches us to live with all our heart and soul, day by day, minute by treasured minute.

Some people are only in our lives for a short time, but the mark they leave on us is a cherished tattoo.

If someone judges you for how long it’s taking you to move past a loved one’s death, be happy for them, because it means they’ve never experienced it.

That that which is broken, once repaired, can be more beautiful than it was before.

Grief was walking through a minefield with no protection or guide.

Losing a loved one, no matter the circumstances, was the most heartbreaking thing a person could endure. But living for them, loving them even after loss, was healing too. Because they would always be around us, wanting us to live with all our hearts. Wanting us to love and wanting us to live a life so full, there would be no room for regrets when our time to pass arrived.

Two broken pieces searching for a way to feel whole.

Love didn’t die; it was eternal. It was a tattoo on our souls. A gift that even death could not take away. If you have been loved, even if you have lost, that love will never leave. It will fill your heart and patch over the holes that grief leaves behind. We just must hold on to it when all seems impossible.

Death teaches us to live, for the short amount of time we are here. Death teaches us to live with all our heart and soul, day by day, minute by treasured minute.

If it unburdens you, then it’s the lightest weight in the world.

But the truth is, death is all around us. We see it every day, though we may not realize it.

You couldn’t lose someone you loved so much and ever return to the person you were before.

Losing someone you loved—the club no one ever wanted to be in, but one we would all be forced to join at some point in our lives. No one would escape it. It was simply a matter of when.

She was the miracle I never saw coming.

When we are hurting and the world feels like it is caving in on us, we need people around us to hold us up.

For those who have lost a loved one, I walk with you. For those who have lost a piece of their heart, I hold your hand. For those who don’t know how to move on, I pray this book gives you solace.

A loved one’s death wasn’t a onetime thing that you had to endure. It was an endless cycle. A cruel Groundhog Day that burned away at your heart and soul until there was nothing left but scorched flesh where they once had been.

Because when you have lost something so precious, when something priceless comes along, you embrace it with both hands. And you never let it go.

I’d come to understand that we showed our worst to those we love best. There was no judgment. Only complete, unwavering support.

Life. The strangest ride of ups and downs and heartache and loss. But also, a life with the world, the stars and the sun, joy and love. And of course, love. Love above most.

You need to say goodbye, baby.” Her voice wobbled—hoarse and exhausted. She looked over her shoulder, to where Rune was sitting on the bed, laying kiss after kiss on my older sister’s hands, her fingers, her face, looking at his Poppymin like he always had—like she had been designed solely for him.

She was teaching me more on this trip than anyone ever had. She was teaching me that happiness didn’t have to be big gestures and life-changing moments. It could be just this. Witnessing someone seeing snow for the first time. Hearing someone laugh, true and honest

Rob told me that grief never left us. Instead we adapted, like it was a new appendage we had to learn to use. That at any moment, pain and heartache could strike and break us. But eventually we would develop the tools to cope with it and find a way to move on. I was still waiting for that day.

Depression is a sickness that eats away at all happiness and light until there is nothing left but hopelessness and despair. Like cancer ravishes the body, depression ravishes the mind, the soul, the spirit. It’s a silent killer, stealing life away gradually, moment by moment, extinguishing all light from the soul.

I used to sneak into your room at night, just to be sure you were breathing.

Savannah, being your sister has been a blessing. And even though I’m no longer on this Earth, I will always be your big sister. Talk to me often. I will hear you. I have loved every moment of growing up beside you. My sister. My best friend. You are a part of me, just as I am a part of you. That can never be extinguished. That can never die. I must go now. I am becoming too tired. But remember, I love you more than all the stars in the sky.

It was one of the worst things, I thought, when you lost someone. Having good news to share, and for a second—just one borrowed second of peace—being excited to tell them. Before reality inevitably crashed down, and you were reminded that you would never tell them anything again. And the good news you wanted to share suddenly didn’t seem so exciting anymore.

Loss changed you. But you could heal. You could repair your fractured spirit with golden lacquer and hold on to life. That life wouldn’t look the same ever again. But it didn’t mean that it wouldn’t be worthwhile. That it wouldn’t be beautiful. Perhaps loss taught a person to love life more. Because you understood what it was like to lose that life. You wouldn’t take it for granted anymore.

But there are no definites when it comes to death—except that we will all face it, one day.