Xanax...

She has been my wonderful guardian, my loving mother in this Tower of
destruction of morale. Yet everything I am, everything I came to work for,
has flew off to UK.

I went back to their suite this morning and I sat there crying for 20
minutes. I can still smell Mrs. M in the suite. I can still remember
sitting in her living room, talking to her about quilting. No amount of
Xanax in this world would be able to cure me. A part of the reason why
work provided sustenance has left.