"...we'll all be safe from Satan, when the thunder rolls..."

Zok and I are home for just three days, this is too short but for me I can at least remember who I am. I am happy with myself and my life.  I had trouble remembering a world outside of the Orthodox rites, or how to be calm while the brothers were cussing and screaming in a manner that made me promise myself that I myself will give up cussing.

I tried to block out the worst aspects of what I was dealing with, and I kept reminding myself that Zok should be my focus, not my own troubles.  Just as I reminded myself that Mara asked for all these observances and they were important to her.

But there is no room for personal wants within this Macedonian community, there is only room to be told what one can and can not do.  Just as women have duties while men have other duties.  There was no revolution for this community, no equal rights amendment, no dawning of the individual.  

Zok and I are the people who left.  There are people who leave and people who if they think to leave, never actually make the move to do so.

I think I did okay keeping my peace, and holding to silence.  But there is a lot of sleep depravation in the first nine days, people are always next to you, and the ritual hellos and goodbyes just keep coming with no end in sight.  The endless trips to the grave. The cooking, cleaning, eating. The many viewings of the body.   

I had trouble being quiet on the last day.

We were not home for twelve hours before more drama came via the phone, so we left all phones behind to sit for a couple of hours on the beach and remember who we are.

Zok goes to work where I hope he will feel better from the distance between him and the continuing ugly behavior.

I will go back to stand in proxy and hopefully not tell anyone what I really think, which shouldn't be too hard as they have no interest in who I really am.