ts almost time for me to fly. Jonah is sleeping, getting ready for his adventure across the seas, that's what I told him, and he seems pretty excited. I think I'm going to pretend I am in a movie, so the flight seems more glamorous and when it seems stressful I'm only acting. I'll imagine I look like Julia Roberts all graceful-like with a baby so when he cries and I fall over all my bags I'll remember I'm in a romantic drama of sorts. It really does feel like a small adventure I'm about to embark on, strange as that seems.

I'm tinged with grief, and sadness, and beautiful memory as I prepare to go home. I meet my sister victoria when i arrive and we will drive together to my grandparents' house, where our childhoods are still playing, little ghosts of ourselves laughing together in the barns, making mud pies and selling them to the cows, pretending to be cavemen down by the river, swinging on the ropes in the forest hanging from the trees, and of course coming back to Granny and Grandpa as they prepare the meal from their handmade garden.

Next week we will spread his ashes below the great oak tree, the great tree that grows and grows and always seems old and strong, wise and friendly, just like Grandpa.

Its the change this death brings that brings so many tears, the nostalgia that overwhelms me at random moments as I am driving or laughing with Jonah or talking to friends.

I have peace, and I am really looking forward to being home with my family. This time is so bittersweet...