my grandmother, the last relative of my extended family that i knew at all, died this week. i’m reminded of how unbearably sad i feel when i let myself think of the family i come from, one that has never believed in closeness. as a child i used to fantasize about someday being part of a big family, instead of my own which was filled with almost no one, and an unbridgeable separateness between those who did exist. strangers to strangers, not caring to change. instead i imagined family reunions filled with good food and music and noisy children and traditions. color, clatter, and joy. where people knew you too much instead of too little. i hardly knew my grandmother, she was 90 years old. i wonder did she have a happy life? was she lonely? was she relieved by death?