Open Hearts
a Portal to the Miracle of Healing
This article was written ten months after my son, Garrett, died. It was first published in Story Summit’s seasonal Fireflies, in the Spring of ‘25.
Young children have such beautiful, open hearts. They attach their innocent hearts to us and give unconditional love. They are quick to forgive all of our mistakes; even our abuses. They just want to be loved in return. From the moment of their birth, our hearts are re-opened to pure love, often not experienced since our own childhood. As they grow, we vicariously see the world again, through their eyes, with an open heart. We watch them running and splashing in the rain, face upward, drinking it all in. Painting and mixing colors in a pool of delight, and proud of the after-mess. This open-hearted, joyful fun is void of fear. We learn fear and rules later on, and our hearts close to protect us, resulting in our huge loss of the wonder around us daily.
When my son Garrett died, I lost a part of me. A part of my heart. He was my first baby, and my first adult glimpse of an open heart by proxy. It was magical seeing the world again, anew.
His hand has always held my heart, but it now feels like a claw trying to pry my heart like a clam shell, opening it again, to possibilities; a pearl. But my emotional muscles are keeping it clamped, even against my will, resulting in my heart, in constant pain, pumping blood through cold veins.
Garrett used to bring us to Wednesday night, family AA meetings, where I learned that recovering addicts have very delicate hearts; warm, sensitive, and caring. I listened as these brave people, first-name-only, poured out their hearts to a room full of strangers, with honesty and trust. A master class of opening hearts. They’d found the secret, and the safety, to learn to open their hearts again, and thereby begin to heal.
Tonight, I saw fireflies for the first time in my life. It felt transformative. I giggled, and laughed, and couldn’t stop being enchanted by the brief flickers of light they give off, in all directions. The twinkling and sparkles in unexpected places felt like Christmas in June. It was truly magical, and I realized my heart, my capacity for love, was opening. Love was warming my veins, bringing them back to life. I felt like a child again, with wonder and joy. And, for the first time in a long time, joyful anticipation for tomorrow.
Question: Do you remember the first time you laughed after a long period of mourning? Let’s Talk About It…
“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.” - RUMI
Love is all that matters in this world. The only thing that prevails through all. I love that you're feeling love again. You deserve it.
This is so tenderly written and from the heart Nikki. Your words about the emotional muscles clamping around the heart perfectly capture how grief feels, but the glimpse of hope in the fireflies is magical.