Owner of a Broken Heart

“What do you say to someone that you haven’t already said a thousand times?”

Come back, I love you, I’ll do whatever it takes, I can’t live without you, you’re the one; it’s all I can seem to hear myself think anymore. The owner of a broken heart, once again, the architect of my own pain.

The most perfect set of eyes, incredibly soft skin, and lips to die for, she was physically magnificent to me. The way that her body curled to the shape of mine in our sleep, the way she looked with my shirt on, the way her head tucked into the curve of my arm when I embraced her, and how it felt when she ran her finger nails along my skin, it was sensory overload, and now all imprinted in my psyche. Our thoughts of common things were often the same, and our sense of humor in sync. Yet, the deep wounds created over time were so that wiping them away appeared impossible, or incapable of being swept away. What do you say to someone that you haven’t already said a thousand times? And how do you convince the person that what you are saying comes from your heart, and not the part of you that fears losing them forever?

I miss you

Day after day, article after article, I consistently fill my brain with new information; some making things less obscured, and others creating a palpable and urgent toxic aching pain. I never felt this sort of pain before, and so I don’t know what to make of it. Does it mean that I held stronger feelings for her, more so than any other? The dissolution of our relationship is not just the end of something tangible; that’s stating the obvious. The frequent thoughts begin to break apart, and the idea of what could have been slowly begins to run like water color. The loss of the idea of creating that family, of having that future, of even spending a lifetime of holding hands everywhere we go, it’s where the real pain is. When choosing that person, we often force ourselves to envision a future with them, and so in the loss, we are forced to accept that the vision becomes lost too.

Here’s the thing: we go into relationships with a vague idea of what to anticipate from the other personality. We try to be true to what we know, and present the other with what we think is a sufficient balance between being ourselves and responding to their needs. We want to give them what they need, without losing a sense of our own compass. After all, it was that very compass that made us the right person for them to choose in the beginning. Over time, remaining true to our own needs before the other’s, it begins to cause the walls to crumble, and eventually, if both sides cannot seem to work together through the differences, the relationship collapses. When it ends, we are in a completely different position, our compasses reshaped. Knowing what I now know, I could have avoided the fuck-ups. Knowing what I now know, I could have foreseen how she would feel about certain things. But neither her or I have that skill or exceptional foresight, and so we could not have known what to give or give up, before we gave up.

I’ve lost her, and now face something new. But I refuse to lose sight of the positive aspects of who we were, or give up hope that the universe is going to realign us.

I don’t know if you’ll ever come back, but I want you to…because I love you

We Don’t Know What We Don’t Have Until We Have Nothing, Then it’s Clear

“remember to love the person next to us harder, spend more time playing with the kids, walk the dog, sleep in from time to time, and demonstrate appreciation for everything gained and held”


Yesterday, when leaving a job site in Philadelphia, I came upon this couple sleeping under the bridge. I’ve seen the poor, I’ve witnessed destitution, and I’ve encountered unfortunate souls in unique places. What caught me–the thing that really shocked me– was that they weren’t just sleeping there; they had established a home.

Slowly I passed their spot, the two of them closed off to the waking world and hopefully lost in a more pleasant reality. The area they occupied claimed about as much space as my own room, and was equipped with a bed, dresser, cooler, and even a rack to hang their towels from. The bed itself was more than barrier to separate them from the ground, the contents like any normal bed with sheets and pillows.

I’ve seen those men and woman sleeping on benches, streets, and enclosed stairways, but never have I seen a home. It struck me hard, going deeper than a superficial impact. I saw a story with the two. I saw the pizza box and thought about how they likely had a dinner in bed together. I saw their closeness and thought that regardless of how down on their luck they appeared to be, their was an element of optimism to be seen through it all, because, worse than having nothing is having nothing alone.

Though sad, there was some good to see in the situation. Observing someone’s misfortune is an opportunity to reflect on oneself. There are days when I feel like I have nothing and no one, but it isn’t accurate. There are days that I fail to see the walls around me and the roof over my head; I see them so often I just forget their importance. There is food in my refrigerator, a shower upstairs, washing machine in the basement, and most important, I never have to wake up and think to myself, “what now?” Once, I heard a motivational speaker say something about loving the idea of hitting rock bottom, because there is nowhere to go but up. I believe this. To have nothing and be able to survive must feel in someway like being reborn.

When you see a homeless person with a sign, many people will assume they're asking for money but most of them just want an opportunity to live in a home and to have a minimum wage paying job. They want change.

If I woke up tomorrow with nothing, and lived like this couple, everything in life would have a new light. Having a table to eat at would enthuse me and having a door to lock at night would provide the feeling of security. My appreciation for things as simple as walls and lights would be renewed, and my love for the many other things that I now take for granted would be accelerated, like that of an inquisitive child. The most important thing would be the relationships. My feeling of being with the person I love, in a secure environment, where we have everything we need for comfort and security, would be so much stronger, because with nothing else to really worry about, we could give so much more to each other. Life and everything that I would gain would have an element of magic, and my appreciation for its acquisition would bring new joy.

Though, we don’t always live with this enthusiasm. We crowd our lives with unnecessary worry and produce problems that most with nothing would see as trivial matters. Without the true worry of having to figure out what’s next and what we are going to eat tonight, we take the time with loved ones to sometimes fight over problems that have no bearing on our quality of life or security. We waste our time on menial tasks and thoughtless entertainment, rather than taking a walk or having a conversation about something that has nothing to do with how we are going to survive the night or next day.

We often create our own alternate realities when we realistically have nothing to worry about. But when our true reality steps in, we are somehow pulled back down, and yanked from misguided conceptions of life. Seeing anyone with nothing should spark some thought in you. Coming to the realization that we often forget what we have is powerful and seeing someone else’s misfortune is sometimes just the reminder that we need. This gives us the chance to remember to love the person next to us harder, spend more time playing with the kids, walk the dog, sleep in from time to time, and demonstrate appreciation for everything gained and held, without the worry of having to fight for it moment to moment.

Until the next time and next topic, stay happy!


In Loving Memory

“We all say that we will try harder to hold onto those close to us, but in life we lose our grip. Sometimes, its in death, or through death, that we tighten it back up.”


Loss, and using it for good is always underestimated. Last Saturday I attended the funeral of a friend and former co-worker, who I had the pleasure of serving overseas and in combat with. Nathan Hege was his name and he was a man of many perceptions. I could go on and on about his character, but the most memorable thing to note is his impact on the world when he left.

Although one man, Nate touched the heart of so many. Attending his funeral service, I was taken back by how many people arrived at the church to bid him farewell. All the stories shared and the memories brought up, showed a stark resemblance across the board. We all had the same impression of his laughable and caring personality. That is where the good in loss comes in. Using the common denominator, people gathered, spoke, bonded, and caught up. Through his loss, caring came into place and warm smiles were felt as well all congregated.

I can remember my initial impression of Nate, and the moment we exchanged a few words as we met. I clearly recall the first time that we flew together; it was in Iraq, and under his guidance not a moment of fear or apprehension was felt on my side. He played his cards well as a pilot-in-command, and stood for what he thought was right as a military officer. He was often unimpressive, which made him more human, but still I won’t forget the first time I heard him carry on a conversation in Spanish; it was impressive. He was a combination of black and white, often a form of his own gray matter. These things made him a character in his own league. He was real, he was a good person, he was legitimate.

Last week he showed that the battle he was fighting was stronger than he was, and took his own life. This not one person in his life will forget about him. For someone so loved, it will never make sense how he could have felt so alone in that moment. And we will never know the reason why, but through his loss we will gain something long lasting; we gain perspective and heavier hearts. Following his funeral, I connected to someone else that had served with us, and who I never truly saw eye to eye with. That evening, him and I bridged the gap, and I feel that a new brotherhood had been created. And it wasn’t just my gain, but in the days following Nate’s departure, others will become more than what they were and new relationships will be made. Nate took his own life, and in doing so, he ironically created a new life for many.

It can be difficult to see the good in loss, but sometimes trying to see is exactly the problem. You have to feel, and you have to experience things, and let your mind catch up later. Mourn the person, but pay tribute by using the experience to build on yourself. His loss is a reminder of the fragile balance between two worlds, and we are great at wrongly estimating the accuracy of time we have remaining, as well as the time of those we love. We all say that we will try harder to hold onto those close to us, but in life we lose our grip. Sometimes, its in death, or through death, that we tighten it back up.

For all the years that I have left, here is to you my friend. Rest well and I will see you again!

In lasting memory of Nathan Allen Hege