finally home.

Okay, we're home. We hopped on a plane super early this morning, then caught the 4 hour bus ride with our friend Carlos, then drug our luggage three blocks. But we're finally home...

It's strange, after spending 24/7 with my husband and a handful of other loved ones for the past two weeks, I'm having a bit of separation anxiety. Matt left for work at 6 and it feels creepy to be here alone. Being Thanksgiving weekend, it's like a ghost town around the apartment complex. Every little sound made by the passing wind outside is making me jump.

As if the stress of the last two weeks decided to pound me all at once, I suddenly became exhausted the minute Matt left me alone. At first I didn't know what to do with myself. I unpacked, straightened up the apartment, took a bath, lit some of the incense we bought at that Chinese"antique" store in Texas. It was funny. I realized there are no lighters or matches in the apartment - as open flames are banned from the complex. So I had to light the cone on the red coils of the stove, the way I've always watched my mom light her cigarettes.

Huhh. But enough ado... There is so much I have to say that I can't fit into this one rinky-dinky blog. But I'll do my best. I guess I'll start where I left off.

Gail made it through Saturday night, when we were left to our own devices. But she slipped away Sunday afternoon, when we all least expected it. The four of us were beginning an intense game of Settlers of Zarahemla. Matt was practically begging me to trade my brick card for his wheat, when we were urgently called into the room.

I feel bad. I honestly didn't take it seriously, at first. But after six days of jumping up at every sound that came from that bedroom....I had just grown immune. It all seemed so surreal. All three of Gail's children were gathered around her bedside, waiting tensely while the nurse listened to her heart with a stethoscope. She'd never done that before.

"She's gone," the nurse whispered as she lowered the instrument from her ears.

Sara was the first to crack. Matt immediately went to comfort her. Frank did well at holding his composure, but the three of them soon linked in a sobbing embrace. It was a tragically beautiful thing to watch.

Matt didn't loose it until we were in the car, driving to the cemetery to pick out a plot. He was sitting in the back seat, absorbed in his headphones, listening to the song he and his mother danced to at our wedding just three months earlier. That'll do it.

But that's how Matt is. He expresses his feelings though music. Good and bad. So I wasn't surprised. Through this whole experience, I never knew what to do - physically do. When it all seemed to be to much for him, we would go for a walk, or I would just hold him. But enough. I'm too depressing. Gail's funeral was majestically amazing. But I'll tell you all about that later. I'm tired.

Back to work tomorrow.