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Home Sweet Home

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We have been out of town for a week. I needed to escape to a quieter place and have time to process, to cry, to write, to enjoy Zoya, to be outside, to think, to mourn.

Coming home yesterday was terrifying. I wanted to jump out of my skin. I wanted to jump out of the car.

But I reached out, talked to a few people, read that people were praying, and I got through it.

You see the deal is you never know when the waves of emotion will hit. Sometimes you expect them and they don’t come and other times they hit while you are trying to order your dinner in a restaurant and you want to cuss out the whole d@mn restaurant even though nothing has gone wrong.

My trip of quiet was so ideal.  I could be with clingy Zoya all day, but when a wave of emotion hit I could leave her and go to bed or go walk or go run or go sit under a tree and work it out, cry through it, have my prayers answered and move on in joy.

Last night I could do that and it sucked. But still it passed. And prayers were answered. And when we returned home we sat and cried but a calm peaceful cry.

I’m happy to be back home. I’m happy to be in the home we made together, in the home he provided, in the home we chose. I feel peace and joy here. I loved my pastor’s remarks at the memorial service about it being a place where two cultures joined. I love our home with its mix of America and Iran, with me and him.

Zoya was beyond delighted to be home. She had just woken up when we arrived so she held me for a long time while I sat on the couch and cried. But then the fun began. She wanted all her toys and all her food and to be in all her rooms. Of course, that led to some trouble settling in for sleep, but you can hardly blame her or mind that she crawled a over our bed flopping and laughing for seemingly forever.

I know there are so many hard days, weeks and months to come, but right now, I’m happy to do them in the comfort of the home we made.

I feel like my brain, my heart, has been protected and only a tiny pin prick slowly let’s in the reality and sorrow of what has happened, and only does so a little at a time. As time passes, most waves are harder than the one before, so I can only trust for strength to run the whole race. But today, I only need strength for today.

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2 comments on “Home Sweet Home

  1. Camila, others weep with you. Yes grief is like waves that you can sometimes stand through and other times they knock you down. Just roll with the tide. It does get better but not for a time.
    I wrote this when I experience heavy grief. I know you will get this poem!

    Dreams drifting into days
    Blended by time
    Consumed by the sea
    Washing thoughts of you
    into endless motion
    Only to be slapped on the
    sands of reality.

    Like

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