In grief's wake, we all tick to a surreal clock. Reality is deeply distorted. Salvidor Dali's most recognizable work "The Persistence Of Memory" becomes the landscape of our days. I've spoken to many about this altered state, and have found that the walking wounded indeed reside together among the soft and melted pocket watches of our collective experience of pain.
It is also true that time has the magic ability to heal. But in the process of rebuilding, I am finding that I am slower. I often feel like my internal "gears" haven't been wound up properly yet. Perhaps when our hearts are crushed, they stop beating in their regular rhythm just like a broken clock. For many, a deceleration happens to allow ample space for processing and assimilating pain. We slow down simply without choice. Some do just the opposite. A good friend, who's husband passed away suddenly, said that she speeded up in order to not have room in her day for the pain. Slow or swift, our relationship with the passing of time is influenced deeply during a crisis and the aftermath. Compassion will help put the pieces together again. Keeping this in mind is important for all who are suffering or those supporting them.
Our pendulum will swing back and forth, slowly righting itself to the rest of the world as we move forward.