I’m just not sure how much more bad news I can bare. I am heavy with the weight of death and despair firmly bound to my shoulders. On Monday, my colleague’s father succumbed to cancer. This morning, my husband’s colleague and good friend died from a heart attack. It is so difficult to try and find peace when around every turn people who we love and care about are dropping like flies. Time heals all wounds? Pah. Just as some sense of normality and peace attempts to set in, the next terrible thing happens. The one thing which I really don’t feel like we have on our side at all is time. Because there are no guarantees. Of pregnancy, of babies, of life. With each second that passes the more distance there is between us and Grace. With each second that passes the closer we are to our own mortality. Time won’t heal our wounds because death just won’t let up, won’t let us assimilate. Death keeps on picking the scabs off our weeping wounds and infecting them.