That Hole in My Heart

I got an unexpected call from a former student,  now friend.  He wanted to share some unwelcome news.  His father died four days ago, of COVID, in Croatia. I had met his father over drinks at a local watering hole in Prague, a few years ago.  He was a man full of life and loved living in Europe.  And now this.  

I could hear the emotion in his voice and I could sense the heartbreak as we spoke of his loss. “The tears have not stopped” he told me.  And then the flood gates opened and my tears flowed freely too.  I cried with him for his loss, and for the loss of my own Dad.  

I told him that time does not heal. It allows us to cope.  And then news like this makes the wounds raw again. 

This hole in my heart is here to stay. There are no do overs. No second chances.  That’s the thing about death — it leaves broken hearts in its wake, and holes that never get filled.