When there is a death of someone I love, I am always aware of time as a palpable flow. I want to hold onto the moment, freeze the leave-taking in place, cling to the person.

At those times, I can feel time like a river, the current dragging me irresistibly onward, farther and farther from the moment. I really can feel it physically; a soft, persistent push downstream. Suddenly, it’s an hour later, a day, soon it will be a week.

And eventually I round a bend and I can no longer see the moment clearly; I am left only with memories and a life suddenly turned grey.