When all I had was Time.


“Especially in early grief, every object, every landscape, is connected to grief.”
- Megan Devine

Time has a different meaning after the death of Vasu.

Before death, Time was full of things to do that never quite got done.

After death, Time became my entire life… waiting, as if Time stood still.

During my days when clouds wept and the sea was the color of melancholy, Time became a friend. When I couldn’t see beyond the tears, when I couldn’t breathe through the pain, Time was there. I did not have to figure out how live without Vasu yet, because I had Time. I did not have to fix or let go or move on, because I had Time.

At times, Time was all I had. When the storms raged, and the need for little legs tangling with mine woke me from uncomfortable dreams, Time sat with me as I sobbed.


When the desire to find Vasu was stronger than my desire to live, I gave myself Time.

Time let grief come and go at its own pace and on its own whims. I drifted on the currents of Time, and daydreamed in sunlit afternoons that lingered outside the passage of Time.

The ocean filled with the tears of mothers, daughters, and widows, the wind their wails of longing, and I loosed my own cries to mingle with theirs. No human could say the words that would penetrate my solitude, because their voices were not Vasu’s. No comforting hug could bring me solace because their arms were too big, too strange, too foreign. Loneliness followed me like a shadow. But I was not entirely alone because the earth grieved with me, and Time stood by my side.

And then, one day, it was Time. Time to stop listening to the earth’s heartbeat. Time to fit myself back into the lives of others who were not Vasu. Time to find new legs to tangle with and new hands to hold.

But the humans I found do not know what it means when love dies and Time stands still. They speak without taking Time to consider how their words might be taken. But they too have Time to figure it out. I will be patient, because Time was once patient with me.

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