When Andrew's mother was diagnosed with the Mega Meanie (aka Multiple Myeloma) in November 2007, my only wish was that we were closer. I wanted to be nearby to help, to do whatever I could to make things easier for her. What seemed like a long drive suddenly became an insurmountable distance. We went from seeing Mom every four to six weeks to not seeing her for nine months. Our visit then was joyous yet short-lived, just a long holiday weekend. Then: another seven months without a visit. Mom was told she was in remission early in 2009, and we saw her a bit more frequently last year. Unfortunately, her cancer is back and we're feeling that distance again.

Distance broke my heart a few weeks back when I found out that my Grammy was hospitalized for severe dehydration and possible pneumonia. Like most people, I want to see my Grammy as the invincible woman she'd always appeared to be. At 93 years old though, she's become very frail and, well, old. Her hospitalization hit me hard since my biggest fear regarding Grammy is that I won't get to see her again before she passes. I'm very grateful that Grammy has, thus far, recovered from her illness. I've been given a bit more time.

Some of us though, aren't that lucky or blessed. Just days ago Andrew learned that his Uncle Gerhard had passed away early in December. Andrew was understandably upset by the loss of his uncle and is mourning not only the loss of the man but the loss of the potential relationship.  The irony is that, the last time Andrew saw his uncle, they were separated by language.  By the time that Andrew finished his degree in German, they were separated by physical distance as Uncle Gerhard lived in Spain.  Now they're separated by much more than either of those.

I suppose that all of these events have made me realize just how precious our relationships are, and that no matter what the distance is caused by, we need to do our best to nurture and cultivate. We need to let those we love know that we love them, before it's too late.