      I'm always told that four hours isn't very far away from home. For the most part it's not too bad, but there are instances when it seems forever away.
           Usually I agree with them, after all living on a farm half an hour away from the nearest grocery store turned distance and time into the norm for travelling places.
           The other day I awoke to a phone call, my grandmother had passed away in her sleep and my dad was calling to let me know. She was 90 and had lived to see so much in the world.
           Living four hours away never felt further, I couldn't drop everything and go home to be with family; four hours became ridiculously far in that moment.
           Usually not living close to family isn't too difficult, but this was something that was really quite tough which struck me even more that day. I had gone out to work and then later drop off a baby gift with a friend, I found the newborn's grandma was with them in the house and I almost asked if I could have a hug but thought that might be weird.
           It's a strange feeling to think that life goes on when someone who has been a constant in your life passes away. You know it does and you go on with your day, but there's a feeling of sadness that just can't be shaken. As I went out and did an interview last Sunday, I tried to be in the moment but my thoughts continually drifted to Granny.
           She was ready to go and we were prepared, as much as one can be for losing a loved one; but, knowing that the next time I go home I won't get to visit with her, play cards with her, or do crosswords with her does bring tears to my eyes because she's no longer here and my memories are all I have left of her. They're happy memories and there are lots of them, but the reality is there won't be more made and I think that's what hurts when we lose someone close to us.
           She did have dementia and usually thought I was still in school in Lethbridge whenever I talked to her, but the last time I saw her a few months ago she had remembered that I write for a newspaper though didn't know where. Our chat though was about how it doesn't matter where I am as long as I like what I'm doing.
           We'd play cards, which she always managed to win, or do crosswords, which she could spout off answers like nothing else leaving me to simply fill in the spaces.
           She taught me how to knit when I was younger and always had the most delicious food. Homemade buns, lefsa, shrimp creole, rosettes, that woman could cook and bake like no one else. The last few years I've taken up making rosettes, a tedious task, but one that reminds me of standing in Granny's kitchen when I was little. I just got to eat a few after that time and she wouldn't let me help her when I was younger because she was worried I would burn myself on either the hot iron or the oil; but she was so proud and happy when I brought her some each Christmas.
           The other day someone told me I put a lot of myself into my columns and I know this one definitely falls into that category, but the thing about loss is that everyone goes through it and to talk about the feelings it evokes in us is important.
           Everyone deals with grief differently, with loss in different ways, but it is something we all experience. When it comes to a column it's sometimes difficult to find a topic and although I attempted to write about anything other than this, it was all I could focus on when I started writing.
           I'm not looking for sympathy or for you to feel sorry for me for losing one of my grandmothers, but to simply take a moment and give a family member a hug, tell them you love them, and to just spend a little time together. Life is hectic and taking a moment for family can often be put off until later, but don't put it off, make the memories now and make many of them.
           I know I am lucky and thankful for the time I've spent with mine. I can't wait to hug my Oma (my other grandma) and the rest of my family when I get home this week.
