My niece Ruth died a few days ago.
When my mother saw something particularly sad or bad - especially if it involved animals or children - she would say, "It just makes my heart hurt." There was a particular crimped and crumpled edge of sadness in her voice when her heart hurt. She could make you feel it even if you didn't particularly want to. It was a powerful thing to hear, but eventually so many things made her heart hurt that it lost its power.
My heart does not hurt. The only times it did the doctors suspected a heart attack and put me in the hospital. And I do not speak from the ragged and aching edge of sadness my mother visited more and more frequently as she grew older. But what my mother used to say makes sense to me today. And I can hear her saying it.
My niece Ruth died. It just makes my heart hurt.
So much in four paragraphs!
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