They say that when one door closes, another opens.  People will also say, “It can’t rain forever” and especially when we talk about heartbreak or heartache; when you find yourself at the bottom of an outcome, there is no hope. All we see is what we feel. And it hurts.
Life is not without pain nor is love without trials. It is clear though, at least to me, that it is pointless to deny our feelings. Instead, we can own them. We can declare them and process them so that eventually, we can live with them.

The question of all questions is “Has anybody ever died from a broken heart.” The answer is yes. I am sure of this. In fact, there is a medical condition that comes from a broken heart. But I am no doctor and this is not intended to be taken from a clinical standpoint.
I am not sure if death from a broken heart is immediate; however, I can see proof that people can die while still being alive.
I’ve seen proof of this at support groups for parents who lost their children. I have seen pain here. I’ve seen anger. No, it’s hard to say that life is fair. Especially when it isn’t fair. And pain hurts. Loss hurts. 

I have seen parents declare their love, hopeless and lost, and somehow, they have this thing they call faith to which, I am amazed.

There is nothing more unnatural than a parent burying their child. I do not compare losses or scars. Instead, I acknowledge the right to own the uniqueness of pain. At the same time; I have met people who have endured the worst kind of losses; yet, they still go on.
They still choose to live. They find their platform and ways to be heard. I have seen mothers create foundations. I’ve watched fathers speak on behalf of their fallen child to spread awareness. I have seen people go to great lengths to keep their love alive by any means necessary. 
I applaud them.

I was at an event where I saw a man who recently lost his wife. A woman approached and asked him to dance. He heartily smiled and said, “No, thank you.”
The only person he wanted to dance with was gone; and it was then and there that I saw that yes, true love does exist. I saw this on a man’s face who was brave enough to show his emotion and I swore, this is a person who I strive to be like.

There is the other side of loss too, which does not include the finality of death. These losses come with expensive words like divorce or breakups. Even the word, “Break up” alone is enough to shake my head.
I know what it’s like to be on both sides of the equation. And again, the question arises. Has anyone ever died from a broken heart?

There are times when I recount the memories of a child who used to look at me and call me Daddy. There are times when I recall memories of playing hide and seek with an imaginary bear at a playground behind an elementary school. I recall me and a little girl running towards a little plastic bus on the playground by the nursery school saying, “The bear can’t get me up here.”

I remember reading bedtime stories. I remember that not all days were great days and yes, I remember my frustrations that come with handling the remnants of divorce.
I am not only aware of my mistakes, I’ve owned them and confessed to them. However, there is the matter of life beyond our control. There are situations beyond our control because after all, most times, life is beyond our control.

She has chosen a different path now. My little girl is no longer little and it has been her choice to move in a different direction. And for me, all I have are memories of her laugh, which again; the same question comes to mind. 
Has anyone ever died from a broken heart?

The word recovery means to regain something lost that’s been taken away. While I cannot regain certain things, I had to learn to regain pieces of myself.
I had to do this, regardless of the pain or the heartache.
I had to learn that looking for fault or trying to find accountability does not change what happened. Nor does logic explain irrational thinking.
I had to stop pointing fingers or accusing because the energy behind this was nearly crippling. So, in a world with so much happening at once; I had to find a way to live. Otherwise, at best, all I could do is only exist.

I am no stranger to loss or the pains from broken-heartedness. I am no guru. I am only one person in this world. I am someone who is trying to find a better path. And it’s interesting to me how people suggest ways for me to think.
It’s interesting when people look to negotiate my pain or my past; as if they can explain this somehow. However, no one likes when this is done to them.  It’s amazing when a person explains their thoughts and, without asking, people assume there’s something wrong or that somehow, they have the right answer. And by the way, there is no right answer. it’s just life. It’s the account of two things that separate like dissimilar magnets. And for the time being, there is nothing else to do but feel and process. That’s all.

It’s funny too. I gave the eulogy at my Mother’s funeral in which I offered advice about what to say and what “NOT” to say to someone who is experiencing grief. Yet, still, people in attendance came up and said the exact things they nodded at when I told them what “Not” to say.

I was told by a mother, “Well, at least your child is alive!”
All I kept thinking was, “Yes. She is.” and that’s great. But what built upon my pain was that yes; she is alive yet, she wants nothing to do with me. 
Gee mom, thanks for the help!

I have learned more now than ever, it is not right for anyone to assume or negotiate someone else’s pain. People have the right to their opinions; but at the same time, I do not listen to opinions, especially if they come from people who I’d never seek for advice. 

I have learned that people’s so-called helpful suggestions are often a projection of themselves and that rather than listen; people look to have answers. This is about them. And nobody else.

I have kept notes and diaries in case one day, that little girl might have questions for me. And if we speak, I might not be able to answer her questions or express my feelings, which is why I kept a journal called The Daddy Diaries.

This diary is not The Daddy Diaries. No, this is Imagine the Action. This is about recovering from life’s events. Come what may, this is about finding a way to work through pain, to improve and to regain at least a semblance of happiness.

There are social pressures that depict titles in our life; as if by rule, this means we have to live, think and feel a certain way about people with familiar connections. However, titles are only titles.
I have met a lot of bad fathers in my life. Yet, they still carry the title. I’ve met bad mothers too and they still have the name Mom attached to them.
I have met people who do not like or get along with their parents; yet, they still hold the title of son, daughter or child.
There is no rule that states we have to get along or like each other. This happens. There is no law that forces us to be kind to one another. And, in the case where options are limited, at the worst of times, all we can do is face the truth, accept, endure and learn to live on.

My platform is here (with you). My platform is advising parents, dads and moms alike. I teach people to be mindful. I teach about the importance of healthy co-parenting.
I show my pain so that others might not have to experience the same outcomes. I voice myself to recover because this is my action. Any mistakes I’ve made are only mistakes. There’s no need to make them a lifetime sentence.

I have love in my heart instead of rage or shame. This is how i know that I’m improving. I have humility to keep me aware. And I have this place to use my voice and mend the pieces of a broken heart. 

I am a person who wonders if the phone will ring and a voice will say “Hi, Daddy.” But for now, I have to live. I have to recover and move forward. Otherwise, I’m not living. I’m just existing.
It’s funny though. Everyone has an opinion about this, even when I never ask for it.

As for existing,  I’ve done that before and to be honest, I don’t ever want to live that way again. So, instead, I imagine the action. I take the next best step. I take a deep breath and then I recover one day at a time.