I am home - late due to airplane delays, but home.
I walked into the house and felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. I'm so glad to be home I ran around to the rooms just peeping in to see that all was well. And then I made myself cinnamon french toast for a late dinner.
My poor DH is still down there in Florida dealing with lawyers and the like but he'll be home soon.
In a way, it all has worked out well - if that word can be used. We had the week to recoup, and organize, and cry. We're both ready to move on - as we have to. I did have one strange experience this week but I'll recount that at a later date.
I feel that I can now start to focus more on what I need to do for me - which is healthier living, fun with friends, artwork, comics, friday night drawing class, see more of my darling nephews and their loving parents - all without that imminent feeling of doom. (oh lord, please let it stay that way for awhile!)
A passage of life has come and marked us, but we're OK.
I am off to my own delicious bed, with my own nightlight, and my favorite stack of books by the bedside. It's luxury, pure and simple.