Things couldn't have gone more smoothly with our trip and with the funeral. My SIL was amazing. She seems surprisingly at peace. Grace is a funny thing.
I always feel vaguely guilty about being happy to see people at a funeral, as if part of me thinks no joy is allowed. But that's always a funeral silver lining, isn't it?
The kids did well with my mother, even Stella-- although when she came down to our bed in the middle of the first night and found my mother instead of me, she was indignant to the point of trying to push her out of bed.
If I were going to invent an internet hoax, like those people who feign pregnancies or catastrophic fires or whatever else, I would think that this story was too implausible. It's still hard for me to absorb, that someone could be fine in January, vaguely tired and confused at the beginning of February, desperately and mysteriously ill on Valentine's Day, and dead on the third of March. And that all of this would follow the arrival of two little girls, born seven months apart.
If I were ever to abandon my compulsive honesty and make up a story for internet consumption, it wouldnt be that far-fetched. Truth is stranger than fiction.