Not all of the hearts we receive make enjoyable reading- some of the stories told are tragic accounts of bereavement and the struggle to carry on after the loss of someone close. However, the whole point of the project was to allow people to share their most personal stories, however difficult, so rather than despair at the amount of pain and suffering individuals have to cope with, it is comforting to think that, for the authors, just writing down the story to share with others might have been a process of cathartic healing.
I look with bewilderment into the face of my first child. Those beautiful wide open brown eyes, the shape of his eyebrows and the pink rosebud of his lips. I lay the tip of my little finger on his delicate little hand and indulgently hold and love his little feet. My heart swells with pride and love.
I look with bewilderment into the face of my first child. Those lovely eyes framed with the familiar eyebrows, are closed. Below the right eye is a faded scar- memories of a childhood accident. The lips are struggling for breath. I kneel at the foot of the bed and massage body lotion into the tired and stressed feet, in a vain attempt to calm Mike and myself. Moving to look once more into this beautiful face of my son, I hold his hand as the final breath leaves his body. My heart is broken.”
“On the 10th of August 1966 my mother died of breast cancer. No one hugged me. No one talked to me. No one said ‘It’s not your fault,’ no one said ‘She loved you.’
They put her in the cold earth. My mother. I was 10 years and 8 months old. She never talked to me when she was ill. I felt stupid and traumatised. I spent 43 years trying to heal. Forgiveness brings healing. How do I forgive when the desolation and torture is still inside me? I believe in love and joy. One day I will be free.”