The Wrong Heart

The Wrong Heart

Author: Jennifer Hartmann Listening Length: 13h 29m

When my husband died, he left my broken heart behind. He left another heart behind, too—his. I know its wrong. I shouldnt be contacting the recipient of my husbands heart. I dont even expect him to reply But theres a desperate, twisted part of me that hopes he will. No names. No personal details. Just a conversation. ...

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I fiddle with the bandage encasing my wrist, picking at the sticky adhesive. It’s been two weeks since my brush with rock-bottom, and while the wound has been healing appropriately, the evidence of my crime is still glaring.

A grisly, jagged branding of my pain. My ghosts are now corporeal, carved into my flesh, visible to the naked eye. I can’t hide them anymore.

And I don’t have to hide them here, in this white room, with faces that are unfamiliar, yet so kindred. Fellow companions in pain. My eyes float around the circle, making up stories for each troubled soul. Loss, break-ups, mental ailments, death. Their sagas are written all over their faces, scribbled into their fine lines and shadows. Glowing in their hollow eyes.

The eyes are always the mecca for grief.