Arrival
- meetung aunt, uncle and a pile of boy cousins
- picking up Berek (and his new facial hair) the next day
- shopping for a black dress and black shoes to wear to the funeral with Cousin Timothy, an even better shopping companion than Berek
- staying up, night after night, talking with cousins

Gramma Smith’s Funeral
- driving to Indiana where Gramma moved to (from Ohio) before she died
- listening to Berek excitedly pour out to Papa the things he studied at La Salle and with Dr. Garver (”Continental philosophy … John Milbank … blah blah”); not understanding it and getting sleepy
- laughing when Papa would tell Berek to define terms more clearly
- perking up when Berek started talking about Claire and Laurel and dancing
- meeting uncles and aunts again, most of whom I’d not met for 7 years
- meeting so many cousins and a couple cousin-in-laws, some of whom I’d never met
- listening to Uncle Tom’s beautifully written words about his mother, and remembering the times I’d spent time with her
- meeting a lot of Papa’s aunts, uncles, and cousins
- talking with Gramma’s cousin, “Uncle” Brown, hard of hearing, hale, hearty, in his 90s, on whose farm Papa played when he was a boy
- yelling at Uncle Brown (”No!”) while we were talking, because he suddenly took my left hand and asked, “Not yet?”
- seeing a different side of Papa, understanding him better, by seeing him in his own country surrounded by his own family
- finding out that I am not only the tallest female on my mother’s side of the family, but my father’s side as well

Visiting Gramma Winnie
- driving non-stop from Indiana to Florida, picking up Uncle Dave (Papa’s best friend from high school) in Ohio on the way
- listening to Uncle Dave and Papa talk for hours and hours
- hearing stories from Uncle Dave about when Papa was a boy
- being taken out to dinner at Wendy’s by Dave Thomas
- meeting Gramma Winnie (my great-grandma), Aunt Janice (Winnie’s daughter), Kristy (Janice’s daughter), and Katrina (Kristy’s beautiful baby daughter)
- being captivated by stories of our family, from day to night
- attending a depressingly silly Reformed church
- playing Scrabble with everyone for three hours; beat by Gramma … then beating her back
- driving back from Florida to Illinois <ARGH>
- having a good long talk with Uncle Dave as he took the night-driving shift and everyone else slept
- dropping him off at an airport in Atlanta because he needed to get back to work the next day (the trip wasn’t as fun after he left <shhh>)
- driving through the Appalachians for a couple days; it was beautiful
- finding a wonderful store on the way
- stopping in Indiana on the way back, picking up things Gramma had so carefully prepared to give to us before she died
- wishing I’d had more time to spend with Aunt Lisa and Uncle Tom (Papa’s siblings)
- driving around the neighborhood Gramma and Grampa had lived for most of their lives and where Papa had grown up
- meeting Uncle Dave’s parents and spending the morning with them
- ending up spending the night in Ohio, unexpectedly, with some of Mama and Papa’s old friends from a church Papa used to pastor; a perfect example of warm Christian love and hospitality

I’m tired.

The month in America was a wonderful trip, and our entire time there was greatly blessed. But at the same time, it was an emotional roller-coaster ride, at times almost unbearably gut-wrenching, because it’s most likely the last time we’ll see them together as a family, if at all. I’ve finished writing about the first part.

Before we went on the trip, if I got to bed before 2 am, I felt I was getting to bed early. When we arrived in the States, I didn’t have any jetlag. Most of the time we were there, I was up till almost dawn. Since getting back, I’ve been completely jetlagged. I’m so jetlagged that I get exhausted around 8 or 9 pm. I push really hard to stay awake till 10 or 11, then crash. And I wake up between 5 and 7 am without being drowsy.

I love jetlag.