Everyone, myself included, is still trying to gather themselves, to respond in the way that is the most appropriate to his memory and helpful to the extended family. It seems eerie how time seems to crawl to a snail’s pace at times like this. Time is now frozen as a windowpane that has just been shattered, on the shards spinning and twinkling in mid-air. Whether they fall harmlessly or with a slicing, dicing crash is yet to be seen. Frozen time, with its slogging thaw, has us all captive, and I am tired and weary of it all already.
Perhaps it’s a good thing that time has paused, for us to find our sense of closure. My emotionally-stunted, robotic self is always unsure what to do in times and situations like these, how to react to others and how to express sympathy and grief. Tears are something that have never seemed adequate to me, shed over frustration instead of sadness. I promise I’m not a sociopath; during this pause, I intend to use my frozen time to figure out what his life meant to me and how to celebrate it.