Time stopped when my son died. Now its passing shapes my grief | Warwick McFadyen

When it comes to loss, people speak of time as the great healer. But it is also frightening for it puts a distance between the living and the dead

Just a few months before the Earth shifted on its axis when a virus departed China to travel the world and wreak more than 4.5 million deaths upon it, an axis of love broke within me. A world within the world broke its moorings, never to return.

Before October 2019, time’s straight arrow was just that. It had no other dimension to it. Now the arrow is both real and illusion. And, unbeknown to me, a new language was forming to try to define the meaning of it all. This was time giving shape to loss. It began two years ago, when time stopped.

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