September 18, 2011 First Sunday with my new family. Visiting gravesite.

It turns out Maricar, my host "mother" who is about 45, was widowed only 5 months ago. Her husband died a month after being diagnosed with stomach cancer. The family invited a PCV partly to bring new life and laughter into their home. Ironically, I was weepy when I got dropped off. I'm not sure why... so many changes so abruptly, I suppose.
And then they invited me to join them on their usual Sunday visit to the gravesite. We walked up to the gravesite and Maricar spoke gently and peacefully, "Hello, Papa. This is Ali, she's a Peace Corps Volunteer." That did me in. I couldn't stop from crying.
It made me think of Dad and Mama and Tracy and all the loss of the last few years. It made me feel a fierce desire to be with my children and grandchildren. But it was also so sweet and serene and kind. I felt so honored. How could there be a welcome more sincere?