Field of the Broken Heart

         You always hear the stories of how identical twins have a close bond that cannot be broken, each feeling the other's pain or happiness, finishing each other's sentences. I cannot say that ours was more special than other twins -- all I can tell you is that our bond was very special to me.


         When we were children, we went everywhere together. We dressed alike; we played the same games, had the same favorite color, and we even shared a room. Sometimes it seemed our thoughts mingled and we would think exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. Without a single word spoken, we would look at each other and then laugh together hysterically, completely baffling our parents and whoever else was present.


         In 1979 mother gave us gold chains for our eighth birthday, each containing half of a broken heart. My sister's nickname, Sissy, was engraved on the back of mine and she had Missy, which is what she called me, engraved on hers. We loved our hearts and wore them everyday. We would very often stop and put the two together to form one beautiful gold heart.


         Behind the country home we lived in was a beautiful, golden-grassed field from where butterflies would emerge every summer. Sissy and I spent many happy days in that tall grass chasing the delicate creatures in the sunshine of our youths.  It was that field, the place where Sissy and I spent so many happy hours, that holds so many wonderful memories for me.


         When I was nine years old, I had a terrible pain in my side. My parents feared I might have appendicitis so they rushed me to see the doctor in a nearby town. They were so relieved to learn I had a minor kidney infection and that a course of antibiotics would clear it up. For two years, everything was fine. Sissy and I continued to live our lives, spending our winters in our room with our imaginations in high gear and our summers in our golden field, chasing butterflies and each other.


         On our birthday in the summer of 1981, Sissy and I were in the field playing, trying hard not to peek at the house where our birthday party preparations were actively underway. Suddenly, while running after a particularly elusive butterfly, Sissy cried out in pain. When I reached her Sissy was lying in a fetal position in the tall grass. I could feel her pain, and although I was only 10 I knew this was different than the pain I had experienced several years before. Our parents rushed her to the doctor who'd treated me, and he again prescribed a round of antibiotics, only this time they didn't have the desired effect.


         Sissy's condition worsened, and within weeks she was hospitalized in serious condition. In my worry and grief, I never noticed that I had lost the gift mother had given us. My gold chain had broken and had slipped from my neck. My half of the heart was gone. When I realized it was missing I spent days trying to find it. I tore our bedroom apart looking for my half of the gift that was so special to Sissy and me. But I never found it.


         My parents spent every day of the next two weeks at the hospital. In those days, children were discouraged from visiting someone so sick. The diagnosis was kidney cancer. It had progressed too far to be treated. I saw her only once more after our tenth birthday. When they brought me into her ward I was shocked to see how frail she had become. Only her eyes were the same. I crawled carefully between the wires and tubes and lay in her small bed with my arms around her. We cried together and talked about her getting better and coming home to chase butterflies with me. When it was time to go she held out her hand. In her frail fingers was her half of the broken heart. She wanted me to complete the heart with mine as we had done so many times before. It was our way of saying "I love you". I burst into tears. I just could not find the words to tell her I had lost my half and we could never put them together anymore. I did not have to tell her. I could see in her sad, tear-filled eyes that she knew. All I could say was how much I loved her and how sorry I was.


         Two days later, on a windy, rain-filled day, my parents came home early and told me that Sissy had died. They said she died in her sleep, but I knew inside that she had not. I knew what she felt when she left me that day. My mother pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and handed it to me. Inside were Sissy's gold chain and her half of the heart. She told me that Sissy wanted me to have it and that I should not worry about the other half. She told me that Sissy loved me and knew that I loved her.


         My world was shattered. I felt more alone and empty than I had ever felt in all my life. Even though I knew in my heart that I had lost a cherished part of myself, I could not bring myself to cry. Instead, I held it all inside of me. I refused to let out all the pain, grief and most of all the guilt I felt. For the next year, I did not speak unless spoken to and I spent all of my time in my room or in front of the television. I refused to be the person I was before Sissy died. I did not think I deserved to be happy anymore. I just wanted to die and be with my sister again.


         On the morning of my eleventh birthday, my mother came into my room and told me that I had to stop. She told me she had lost two daughters when Sissy died and she wanted me to come back to her. I told her that I could not. My mother is a very wise soul. She took me by the hand and led me to the back yard to the very edge of the field where Sissy and I played so often. She told me to go into the field, find her little girl, and bring her back to her. She told me how much she loved me and needed me to live again. I did not want to. The last place I wanted to be was in that field. Nevertheless, my mother was insistent.


         For a long time I stood at the edge of the field watching the morning fog drift across the tall, golden grass. Finally, I slowly walked into the mist. I stood in the middle of the field for what seemed like an eternity. At first, I felt nothing but the huge emptiness within me. What was my mother thinking sending me out here where I did not want to be? It was at that moment I saw it. A beautiful butterfly had drifted aimlessly by me and landed in the grass twenty feet away. Standing next to that butterfly was my sister. She was smiling her beautiful smile and pointing at the butterfly, just as she used to when we played together so long ago. I ran to where Sissy stood and fell to my knees. She was not there, but I could feel her, and I could feel my love for her pouring out in the tears that ran joyfully down my cheeks.

         The butterfly still lingered in the grass. Its wings gently wavered in the soft summer breeze. Then it took flight, and as it meandered away, I saw something shiny glinting in the dew where it had been. There in the grass was my lost chain and half-heart. With shivering hands, I picked it up and connected it with Sissy's heart, which had never left my neck since my mother gave it to me the year before. As the two pieces of gold came together, I was filled with all the wonderful memories of my sister and all the love we had for each other. I could feel the empty hole that had been in my own heart begin to fill up with the love I had denied myself  for the last year and I knew that not even death could separate me from my sister. Our bond had been so strong that she had found my heart in that field and put it back together. Two sisters, one heart, and I would live my life for both of us.


         I am an adult now with twins of my own. Two beautiful, healthy little girls who love each other and play in the field my sister and I played in when we were children. I stand in the big kitchen window, as my mother did, keeping a loving eye on them. As I watch them, I think about Sissy and I know that she will always be in the field of my heart, dancing, and chasing butterflies.

End
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