The patient described a period of profound loss. Following the death of their father, they were quickly faced with their daughter’s cancer diagnosis, leaving little time to process their own grief. They moved almost immediately into the role of caregiver, suppressing their emotions to support their child. It was only after their daughter’s death that the full weight of both losses emerged. They described feeling emotionally ‘empty’ and physically ‘unwell’, later developing chest pain and palpitations and being diagnosed with Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, known as ‘broken heart syndrome’.

Rather than portraying the medical condition itself, I wanted to portray the person behind it: their grief, love, loss and survival.

I chose a vintage-style picture frame to represent memories that we preserve but cannot return to. At its centre, an anatomical heart is painted onto glass. The glass symbolises vulnerability and fragility; although the heart initially appears whole, its surface is fractured. I deliberately shattered and reassembled the glass, leaving the cracks visible. These fractures represent unresolved grief and the lasting impact of loss. Some fragments were left missing, symbolising the permanent absence of loved ones. The ornate, stable frame contrasts with the fractured heart within it, reflecting how the patient appeared outwardly strong while carrying hidden distress. Yet the heart remains standing. Rather than portraying healing as a return to wholeness, I wanted to show it as learning to continue despite being permanently changed.

This experience taught me that grief is not always visible or immediately expressed. It reinforced the importance of listening, emotional presence, and recognising patients as whole individuals, including the wounds that may remain unspoken.