From Heartbreak to Wholeness

This post is dedicated with love, support and hope to anyone who is suffering from a broken heart.


Three years ago, I suffered the worst heartbreak of my life.

Three years ago, my mom passed on after 14 months of treatment for multiple myeloma cancer.

Three years ago was the catalytic event of my life that led me to go after my dreams of training to become a coach and starting my own business, and to learn some of my greatest life lessons (so far).

For months after Mom’s passing, I had a constant heartache, stomach ache and headache.

From the moment I woke up until I went to sleep, I had a constant thought running through my head.
Mom is gone.

Every time the phone rang, I had a constant hope that Mom was calling to exclaim, “Sunset alert!” (the artist in her described sunsets as God’s masterpieces), or to plan our next Girls Night.

While support from loved ones, prayer, counseling and books eased some of my pain, my heart still felt like it was broken into a million pieces.

Until it didn’t.

With time and being gentle with my grieving self, I could start to visualize my heart going from being broken into pieces, to being broken open.

I realized that I wasn’t at the end of something.  I was at the beginning of a transformation … if I chose to accept it.

Everything bothersome in my life became insignificant. Everything good in my life became infinitely precious -- especially the gift of Life.  And I wasn’t willing to wait any longer to live mine to the fullest.

Now, I feel like Mom is everywhere.

Three years ago, Mom didn’t die from cancer. I refuse to give cancer that power.

Three years ago today, Mom was called to a higher purpose where her desire to help others isn’t constrained by physical limitations.

Three years ago today, my heart was broken so that it could be opened up to receive and give more love, light and inspiration than ever before.

This may sound awfully romantic and idealistic.

Truthfully, it’s been a long and tough road filled with lots of bumps and bruises and whining and crying and messes and Kleenex.  And it continues to be filled with all of that.

It also continues to be filled with lots of laughs and blasts and happy dances.

And it's worth every step.

Thank you, Mom. I love you.


P.S. Know someone who could be supported by this?  Forward this along and encourage them to subscribe at blossomofsnow.com.  We’re all in this together.