Newfoundland has a Piece of My Heart Part Two

As I relive that moment, it felt like he took a knife and cut out my heart, I felt so much pain and I was also in shock. I called him a few choice words and pounded him on the chest, How could you do this to me I cried. I sold everything to be with you! He looked at me with no emotion, like he did nothing wrong and said he would help me find a place for my little boy and I to live. I couldn’t believe he was so calm and didn’t care after all that he had told me in the past year, and even the poetry he had written, meant nothing at all. I’m glad I still had my car but it was hard to drive on the roads in St. John’s because everything was new to me. Back then there was no cell phones or gps, only road maps which didn’t help much, so I bought a local map of the area to make it easier, but I still got lost at times. My life was a mess and I had no one to turn to. Not even God, because I gave up on Him and blamed Him for all that happened. I also gave up on my dream and buried it so deep there was nothing left of it, but dried up bones. I had lost all hope in people as well, since heartbreak after heartbreak seemed to be the pattern of my life over the years, and I couldn’t break free from its curse. But even through the most devastating time of my life a faint flicker of light shone through the clouds when the people of Newfoundland were so different and so laid back and friendly. Believe it or not everywhere I went they welcomed me and treated me like I was family. I loved their accent and the cute phrases they’d say actually gave me a reason to smile. It faded fast, but I knew in my heart not only did I love the beauty of the island, but I also loved the beauty of their hearts as they reached out to me with such kindness. They were complete strangers and had no idea what I was going through, but it did ignite a momentary spark of hope. However, the pain of my broken heart was too deep and too hard to bear…well not long after, this guy found a house advertised for rent in a town called Paradise. He set up an appointment with the owner and drove me there to look at it. I walked through it and loved it, but the owner was hesitant at first when he found out it was for me and my son. I could barely speak for myself because I was walking around in a daze half the time. But after he spoke up for me the landlord said okay, the house is yours. What a beautiful place situated on a high cliff of rock, right along the ocean shore and I felt safe because it was located right behind the owner’s home. I didn’t trust this guy who had led me astray and I was a little afraid of him, just in case he would do something crazier than he had already done. Believe it or not he actually drove me through the city dump to look for furniture but there was nothing decent and he picked up a couple of mattresses on the side of the street. I honestly trusted the couple who rented me the home, more than him. Well he helped me move and I gradually settled in but I couldn’t sleep at night and was haunted with suicidal thoughts. As time went on, I found myself getting worse instead of better. I thought In time I would get over the hurt and feel normal again, but that didn’t happen. And there was no way I could return home because I didn’t have enough money, but thankfully I was still from the same country and the government helped me financially to pay my rent and buy food. It’s a good thing or else I’d be homeless living on the streets…

To be cont’d…