My Oma died today. My third grandparent to die while I was on an entirely different continent. More than ever it hurt like hell--feeling so far away from my family and the chance to share our grief. How is it possible to feel whole when your family is spread so far and wide?

We both had to work today. I didn't want my day to feel like business as usual. When I mentioned this to David he suggested that we paint together for Oma at the end of the day. It was perfect. My Oma was an artist. I have a few of her paintings, and most notably the one she made for me when I was born.

Ruby, David and I made her a sun and moon and a star. We had fun, we talked about Oma and we spent time limiting Ruby's access to the tubes of paint--not entirely with success.

Oma I know you did not have an easy life. I grew up seeing a lot of the negative fallout from the rocky relationships you had with your kids, my mom included. I had a hard time relating to you in many ways and you didn't make it easy for me. I want to believe that the distance between us had much to do with my youthfulness, sheer geography and a hefty dose of patriarchy.

What I'm most afraid of is the distance that I've imposed--not by choice, but that doesn't matter really--on Ruby and her mamie and papie. While I don't want the same for her that I had to contend with when it came to my extended family, here I am, on a different continent.

Goodbye my dear Oma.