Distance

When I awoke Saturday morning to 30 some odd missed calls on Skype, I knew something was wrong. I placed some early morning phone calls back to the States to find that my Grandpa had passed away unexpectedly that afternoon. Under normal circumstances this loss would be devastating. However, this news was compounded by the fact that my parents had just arrived in Austria less than 24 hours before.

My heart sank. The ramifications of this news began to unfold in my head. I had to find my mom and put her in touch with her siblings. My parents would be leaving. I would be staying here... blows, every one.

When we signed up to come to Vienna, I often thought about how we would handle a family emergency, either here or back home. Unfortunately any "plan" we had discussed was always in the hypothetical and never given more than a peripheral thought. We would go there or they would come here. How naive we were to the logistics and expenses of making such a thing happen. Distance being the largest factor working against us, followed by babies and jobs.

My heart goes out to my poor parents. They spent more time in airports and on planes than they did enjoying the beauty of Europe (or their coveted time with their grandbaby.) This arrangement might be fine with some seasoned business traveler, jetting off for a day long meeting abroad, but this was their first time overseas. They were anxious and unsure leaving home. Now they had to turn around and endure the worst part about international travel over again. As of this evening, they are safely back in the U.S. However, the pain and awfulness of this whole ordeal is not over. Now the real work begins. My mom must make sense of this loss all while tackling the huge logistical issue of how to best care for her mother.

But right now I can't help but feel selfish. I want to be home. I want to share in the going over of stories and memories. I wish that I could cry and laugh in their company. I find myself unable to comprehend how to process all of this so far for those who share my common history.

This morning I woke up sad and angry at our living situation, but the rational part of me knew that staying indoors, under the covers, was not a constructive method to combat grief. We rode the train to the outskirts of the city and took bus up into the hills. It was a warm fall evening, crisp and filled with the smells of the season. Gabe, Jude, and I wandered through the vineyards as the sun began to set. With dusk, Vienna became illuminated below us in all directions, a stark contrast to the quite darkness of our path. We talked about my Grandfather.

He had called us less than a week ago to say hello and send along birthday wishes. Gabe and he had talked about how his people had come from the region. He closed the conversation with wishes of love for me and my family. While I will not be able to commune with my family over this loss, I feel that I have something very special in this phone call that I hold dearly as my means of moving forward during this time- a last connection, despite our distance.