Naї

Naї is my youngest granddaughter. She is the only one whom I have not been able to hold close to my heart, as I wish. She was born far away and is being raised far away. Last summer, we had our first meeting. It is not my ambition in life to spend it in visits. I cannot believe that a father (or mother, grandfather, or grandmother) can normally survive on snippets of news about children who had emigrated. Love is meant to be shared daily, every day. A child, whether a son or a grandson, opens your heart to more love. He proves that you are more and more capable of it. You and he or she both thrive on love. You are both a giver and a receiver. The things within you come out, or something within or from him draws them out. This is your discovery that your heart is greater than you had known. Yesterday, Naї called me by my name. Her parents, who were talking to us, prompted her to do so, and she did. This is yet another evidence of the losses caused by distance. Distance robs you of following life in its details and leaves you dependent on what is told to you, surprising you. Nothing is richer than life together.