So I realized that when I give somebody a spot—a place in my heart, it becomes their spot. That spot isn’t retail space that’s paid for, it’s not rental space that can be cleaned out and retrofitted for new tenants…it’s theirs. So, if in death or life, circumstances arise where I lose some one who had a space in my heart, it naturally leaves a hole. So, I typically don’t respond to loss like many others do, but at the same time, I’m hindered, hobbled even. That space can not be filled in by contractors, or cordoned off by first responders to the scene of a crime. It’s a hole that sits there, often flooded with memories of what used to be there in the place of those memories. After a while, I can go on, get back to normal activities, although they aren’t the same if a particular person would have been there—my maternal grandmother at my high school graduation, for instance.

What makes the holes hard to deal with, is when that used to fill them comes back—not necessarily to remind me of what was, but it still aches nonetheless. Sometimes, if they’re able to come back, they set up in their old place, some have to be given new, less spacious accommodations. But those old holes seem to resonate all the more clearly; beacons in the abyss if you will. And it makes me want to stop moving like mercury in retrograde, to the point I almost go back in time. Maybe to never let them leave, to do something different, or, maybe to never give them an opportunity to leave a hole in the first place. Right now, I just feel like there are too many holes in my heart, and time doesn’t always heal. So, I’m trying to find a way to fill in these holes with the prospect of new possibilities, so that these holes…won’t continue to hold me down.

PS - While this doesn't speak entirely, or maybe even mostly to broken hearts and the like, Cee-lo--ne, Glarls Barkley's Who's Gonna Save My Soul? is an apt metaphorical depiction of how I sometimes feel. Just saying, losing people you care about sucks--no matter how it goes down.