Family Death from Far Far Away

    The last few years have been challenging for most folks, and one of the hardest parts of living abroad in these trying times has to be working through grief and loss so far away from those we love who are still living in our home countries.

    One of the things I lost in early 2020 was contact with my grandmother. A few weeks after a heated discussion between us, her computer broke and fixing it was not really an option. I asked others for her phone number but never received it. I asked other relatives in the area if I could have her current address as she had moved to a new senior care facility before the pandemic, but I never had any confirmation that what I sent to that address got to its intended recipient.

    I said goodbye in my heart then, knowing that our weekly chats were at an end but hoping that we could see her when we got to visit after the pandemic was over. Maybe this time make sure my husband got to say hello as she loved him and didn't get a chance to see him in person when we last visited.

    We only met in person a few times, but she meant a lot to me. Not because she called or sent things to us when I was a kid, because that almost never happened. We lived on the other side of the country and most of her family lived in her town. She wasn't the grandma who babysat me or read to me or sang songs to make me laugh when I was sad. That was my mom's mom and she died when I was in college.

    My real relationship with my paternal grandmother only started 13 years ago. When I moved to Japan in 2008, I started writing letters to her. I thought it would be something neat I did during that-year-when-I-lived-abroad, but as my life in Japan continued, so did the letter exchange between us. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer, I bought up every cute greeting card I could find and sent them out every single week until she was in remission.

    When she figured out how to use a computer, we started talking via video chat and she got to see my daughter grow up. She shared her stories and I shared mine. In 12 years of correspondence, we only had one disagreement and it came just a few weeks before our last chat ever.


What the sky looked like the morning I found out.

    While no one has shared with me any details, I choose to believe that she passed away surrounded by love and knowing that she had done well. The family had a few days notice, just enough time to say goodbye, not enough time to facetime a geographically distant cousin, and now will make their own decisions regarding her possessions and heirlooms.
    As far as I am concerned, they can keep it all. I have a blanket that she sent me because she wanted to be warm. I have photographs she took of the paintings she was proud of and printed out just to send to me. I have memories of the time she sent me colby-jack cheese in the mail just because I couldn't get it here.

    While I am devastated and not getting to say goodbye, I know living out here is what pushed me to contact her and keep in contact with her. I had to be here, and she had to be there. So while my relatives fight over who gets what, I am relived to stay out here and remember a woman who loved me enough to send me cheese.

    Rest in peace, Grandma. Love you always.