Distance

I've been living on my own away from my parents for 9 years now, 11 away from the rest of my family . A lot of people tell me how hard it must be, only seeing my parents once or twice a year. And you know? As awful as it is? You get used to it.

Sure, there are tears every time they leave, and it is so hard to get used to not seeing them again, but a couple of weeks later, I'm back in my old routine. Somehow, time flies by, and it really doesn't seem like it was that long since I saw them.

I talk to my parents every single week. Without fail. Sunday is the day we call each other. And we catch up. Thanks to the cheapness of phone cards, sometimes I also call them just because I feel like it, or when I'm bored and stuck in traffic, for example. So it really doesn't feel like we're apart so much.

But what makes living away from my family the hardest is when I have that fear that I might not have a chance to see them again.

My grandfather got very sick two years ago, ending up in the hospital for 6 months, most of it in a medical induced coma. We thought he wasn't going to get through it. It was tough being away. Somehow, he got better, but because even the doctors did not believe he was going to survive, they not once moved him. So needless to say, he had humongous bed sores when he was finally ready to go home, that have not fully healed to this day.

Last time I went to Brazil, in 2007, he basically said how he was never going to see me again. The thought scared the hell out of me, it still does, because even despite the distance we are close. I'm the favorite, by far. I only have one set of grandparents (on my father's side they both passed away before I was born), so that doesn't make it easy either.

He was doing ok, but a month ago, he got sick again. Though he is still at home, no one knows if he'll make it this time. And this time around, again, I don't want the last time I saw him to actually be the very last time I'll see him.

For him, it's even worse, after all, he grew up being extremely athletic (you can tell by the picture above that he was in pretty good shape way before gyms were around!). And having to depend on people to get things done for him? It's certainly not the way he envisioned his old age.

My grandmother, on the other hand, is a pillar of strength. She turned 88 years-old on Monday. Can you imagine being 88? And still be able to walk around everywhere? Living on a house with hundreds of steps and go up and down them dozens of times a day? (Yep, she has actually counted.) And have your mind still in place, where she can have a conversation with anyone and remember every small detail whether it happened last week or twenty years ago? She also never leaves the house without putting on lipstick, and I have never seen her with white hair, as she faithfully dies her hair at home, and has always done that.

And when I called her on Monday, I was still able to make her laugh. And making my grandparents laugh? Priceless.

Happy birthday grandma, I love you two, and stick around, I hope to visit next year! And hope that when I do find someone to grow old with, I can be as happy as you two!

(Picture above is from when they were still dating, the one below, is from a few years ago, before my grandfather got sick.)