Every Wound Has a Story

The Day My Heart Broke into a Million Pieces

Photo by Celine Sayuri Tagami on Unsplash

I don’t pick up my pen every morning with the intention of selling my vulnerability.

I write because some emotions are too heavy to remain unspoken.”

Point one, sales was never my cup of tea.

Point two, I just write because sensitivity needs a voice.

We all carry wounds within ourselves.

Some carry small wounds and some big ones. But one thing is common behind every wound: there is a story.

Some memories refuse to fade away with time.

The day Mac came into my life, my life changed.

It was love at first sight.

His walk, his actions, and his aura captivated my heart.

I remember I took a half day from work, and yes, I mentioned in the leave letter, “Taking a half day because of Mac.”

Call me crazy, but yes, I did that. My boss smiled, looking at my leave letter.

Mac had filled our house with unconditional love.

I have his photo in my room.

The day he crossed the rainbow bridge, my heart tore into a million pieces. I could never collect those pieces again.

It taught me a cruel truth that death will one day take away your loved one from you, and you will not be able to do anything.

He had stopped eating for the last two weeks, and he just used to stare at me.

I was extremely helpless seeing him like this.

He had spent 17 years with us.

I remember confiding in him many times.

He was my four-legged golden retriever son, my pawsome Mac.

If you enjoyed giving this a read, please consider following our publication, Worm Reads. And if you wish to contribute to our publication, we’re always open to writers wanting to join up with us.