When do I visit my grief?

I never seem to have the time.

Now. In bed. The world slowly

Drifting off to sleep around me.

Now is a good time.

The night sounds give me company

The comforting whirr of the exhaust

The sound of silence. Of sleep.

Regular breathing and snores.

Yes now seems to be a good time.

But wait. What is that?

Oh your niece is stirring in her crib.

Maybe she is cold. Or too warm.

Maybe she is hungry.

It will have to wait.

I will have to feed my daughter first.

I hold her small body in my lap

As she drinks milk from her bottle

Eyes still tightly shut in sleep.

I keep rocking her gently.

She takes her time.

A while passes before she settles

Back into her sleep.

 

I am aware of the time.

I know she will wake up

At the crack of dawn.

Maybe it would be prudent that

I sleep now too

So that I can wake up sane when

She decides to wake up.

As it is I get less sleep.

When do I visit my grief?

Maybe later.

 

It is morning.

Is it a good time now?

Wrong question.

Is there any time now?

No.

Maid and cook.

B getting ready to leave for work.

Have to get K ready for day care.

Breakfast.

Sock hunt.

Shoes hunt.

Struggles to get the uniform on.

Bag ready.

Water bottle filled.

Look for keys.

Drop K to school.

Come back.

Supervise maid.

Clean room. Have quick breakfast.

Change.

Run for yoga class.

Focus on breathing.

You flit in and out of my thoughts.

Shavasana.

Now you are in my thoughts.

I start to feel sad.

I miss you. I think about the phone call.

That delivered the news.

I still can’t believe it.

Now is a good time.

But not enough time.

It is time to turn to the right side.

Sit up.

Rub hands.

Spread the warmth over your face and body.

Namaskar.

And open your eyes.

When do I visit my grief?

 

I am starving by now.

On the drive back home I remember

our only long drive together.

When we laughed so much

And felt all grown up.

 

I am back home.

Quick shower.

So I can eat.

Make tea while putting

Final touches to cleaning.

Drink tea in bed.

Maybe facetime with Ma Pa

They are sad too.

We talk of this and that.

Of keeping busy.

Of a million things to do.

I don’t have the heart to

Drag them into my sorrow.

I know they are lugging

Theirs around.

We say bye.

S is busy too.

Job and kids and home.

When does she pay her grief a visit?

I wonder.

 

It will be time to pick K.

Maybe I should take a quick nap.

I sink into the pillow.

Under the quilt.

And fall into a dreamless sleep.

 

Alarm.

 

It is time to go pick K.

I rush.

I drive.

I collect my little K.

And listen to her chatter

All the way home.

Then I watch her play “beep beep’

In the parking.

 

Back home.

Feed her. Run after her.

Change her.

Play with her.

Have some more tea

To make the headache go away.

Look for the scooter.

Ball.

Shoes.

Head down to the park.

 

When do I visit my grief?

K wants to slide.

Climb the monkey bar.

Kick the ball.

Take another kid’s ball.

Run around.

Play with mud.

Dance.

Run around some more.

Throw ball in the fountain.

And wish it goodnight.

She wants to sing songs.

And clap her hands

And jump up and down.

She wants to run after the puppy

And then run from it.

And pet it.

And pluck some flower

And smell it.

 

It is almost dinner time.

Back home.

Bathe her.

Dress her.

Feed her.

Have family time.

Have dinner.

Put her to bed.

I am tired too.

Have some more tea.

Have quiet chat with B.

Wash bottles.

Boil water.

K might wake up soon.

Might as well sleep.

 

When do I visit my grief?

When do I visit my grief?

They say I should.

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