I am home, safe and sound.
Now that I've returned, I'm trying to find the balance between getting back to some sort of semblance of a normal life, and allowing myself to grieve. The sadness comes over me in waves.
I think that I'll be ready to do something, yet when I'm there I realize that I need to return to my cocoon.
My kids keep me quite occupied and provide a much-needed diversion. I'll be fine again, then memories come flooding back. It's like two steps forward, one step back.
But my brother knew I was tough. That I am strong.
But I never wanted to be this strong. To be able to survive this. Yet it's what I must do; for my mom, my sisters, my children, my brother's wife and children. For me.