Never in recent history has there been such an acute need to understand collective grief. With easily a majority of people having suffered either direct losses of family members or of those that they have come to know, there is suddenly and predictably a shortage in knowing who to reach out to.

The city which used to make a year seem like a fleeting moment, that made one crave for time to halt because too many things were happening at the same time; now it makes an hour seem like years. The clock of pace has stopped for New York. Its only a tick-tock of death counts. There is no Manic Monday to complain about. There is nothing to thank God for any Friday.