It’s been nearly nine years since dad died. The anniversary is almost here again.
And I’m still trapped inside the bubble that formed around me when it happened. When I heard my Uncle’s voice on the phone.
This is time travel.
Outside the bubble, life has wound on through the years. I’ve changed, the world has changed.
Inside, I’m stuck with an unending wail – a token of disbelief for the ferryman to explain what strange joke we live in if it’s possible to suddenly go out. Like a star winking from the sky. A mountain suddenly disappearing from the Earth. An entire person vanishing from the world.
When it happened I began to grieve, only for my family to tell me to stop. I was too sad, too withdrawn. They didn’t like it.
This was like being ripped from surgery without finishing. Just sew it up, make it look…
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The Time Puddle 