Long Distance by Emilly Andrade

TABLE OF CONTENT 2

THE GRIEF I CAN’T FEEL

WHY THE PANDEMIC HELPED MY FRIENDSHIPS

“STEREOTYPES”

FAMILY

FRIENDSHIP

LOVE

11,000 MILES APART

IT GETS EASIER WITH TIME

MARINA BROLLO BRAZIL 22 MEDICAL STUDENT JAPAN/BRAZIL

SILVIA GOMES BRAZIL 60 MOTHER GRIEF

PATRICK JOHNSON UNITED STATES 25 GRAPHIC DESIGNER ILLUSTRATION

PRIYANKA KUMAR INDIA 25 GRADUATE STUDENT ONLINE FRIENDSHIP

JACK SYKES ENGLAND 24 PHOTOGRAPHER RELATIONSHIP

EMILLY ANDRADE BRAZIL 24 GRADUATE STUDENT GRIEF

CONTRIBUTORS 4

THE

FROM

LETTER EDITOR O

nce a hopelessly romantic teenager, I would read and watch anything romance related. Most of them had a happy ending and some didn’t. Some of them had a long-distance relationship interfering with their lives, but most of them found their way back to each other. They made things look so beautiful and easy, even the hard aspects of long distance such as the time difference. That made this girl believe in love, in fairy tale endings, and that in the end everything works out. I grew up believing in fairy tale love until I had to go through a long distance relationship myself. It was nothing like the movies - we were unsure if it would last, so we broke up. A few months passed by and we realized that the eight-hour difference was not as bad as we thought it would be, so we got back together. This distance lasted for about ten months before we were reunited, but what we did not expect was that another long distance situation would start a few months after he was back from his study abroad. This time we only had a two-hour difference, much closer than the first time. However, this was also when a virus outbreak made the whole world shut down. Quarantine made our visits harder, and this second phase of long distance only ended about six months ago. In our three years of relationship, two were spent apart, and especially with the current situation in the world, many more people are going through similar situations. Mine was a relationship, but yours might not be. Your connection with your friends, family, and country is on an indeterminate pause. Not literally, but it feels like it. Your life is somewhat paused until the world starts to function “normally” again. This publication is meant to celebrate the current relationship you and your loved ones might be experiencing. My story is just one of many relationships that was affected by the pandemic, but you might find similar stories as yours in here. Families are bonding over game nights, and friends are having powerpoint presentations on Zoom calls. People are planning trips for the future, while others experienced traveling during this moment in our lives. You might find yourself in here, or be inspired by someone else’s experience, and that is our goal - to get you to believe that having miles apart between your loved ones does not have to affect your relationships in negative ways. Things are tough, but life is tough. We are sharing intimate stories and several tips in hope to bring a smile to your face, and tell you that you are not alone in this.

EMILLY ANDRADE EDITOR

why the

PANDEMIC helped my FRIENDSHIPS text PRIYANKA KUMAR | illustration EMILLY ANDRADE

’m on the cusp of my twenty fifth birthday — the second one I’m celebrating during the pandemic that has swept the world for the last year — and I’ve been doing some reflecting. Leave aside the fact that I’m hitting the big 2-5 which in and of itself would cause a fair amount of existentialism in the average millennial, I’m also feeling an immense amount of existential dread on the back of what has been one of the worst global health crises in the history of humanity. I’ve been thinking a lot about how difficult this time has been, how complicated life has become for so many of us, and how our relationships have had to find a strength we didn’t know they had. I haven’t seen my brother since November of 2019, most of my closest friends and I haven’t seen each other since June of 2019, and when I left to come to the States to wholly immerse myself in my graduate education, I did it with the full knowledge that I did not know when I would next go back home. While this year has been full of sacrifice, full of challenges, full of decisions we never dreamed we would ever make, for me this year has done one very important thing. This year has improved my friendships and made me a more understanding (and hopefully, better) person, and friend. I’ve always been more extroverted than introverted, despite being an incredibly shy person at the same time. In some ways, the pandemic was the exact situation

that my specific blend of personality traits thrived in. I didn’t necessarily have to go through the agonizing ask of meeting new people (do they like me? No, but do they really like me? Are they going to think I’m weird? Am I going to be good enough? What if they only kind of like me and keep me around for shits and giggles?) and could just spend time developing those relationships that I was already (mostly) secure in. Even if it was the case that the majority of my friends were multiple continents and oceans away from me, no one was going anywhere. No one was doing anything. We had time — that was the one thing we did have even if, you know, our futures were uncertain, and everything we’d ever known to be true was now fossilized. The start of the pandemic was everything I’d dreamt of being true for my social life. I didn’t have to cook up an excuse to meet people I didn’t want to; I had the world’s most legitimate reason. I even had all my friends at my fingertips; we love technology. My 24th birthday was handsdown one of the best birthdays I’d ever had, even though I couldn’t see my loved ones physically. All of my friends, wherever in the world, showed up for my birthday Zoom call. One of them even drank a margarita for me at 7 AM their time; that’s what I’d call true friendship. Every single person I loved was in my room with me on my birthday. There was nothing more I could have asked for.

I loved what the pandemic did for my relationships. I cemented a relatively new friendship that also quickly became one of my go-to relationships. This friend, who otherwise is a ridiculously busy lawyer, had time on her hands for hours-long phone calls late at night when she was a willing guinea pig in my developing tarot practice. Another friend of mine and I who are working on a long-term creative project together pushed throttle on it during lockdown. Through daily five-to-six hour long calls she progressed from being a friend I was working on a project with, to becoming one of my best friends, whom I trust to know my mind more than most. In fact, she’s the girl I text everyday even if it’s just to say good morning. Yeah, she became that friend. And I became that guy. All good things come to an end though, and this is the point where things started getting hard. Long story short, lockdown was great for me… until it wasn’t. This time also saw the end of one of my longest friendships as I’d known it. People who had been my confidants for almost a decade, turned into strangers who I think about occasionally.

Even though I had nothing but time to talk to my friends, it turned out for me, that was a grand total of two people. I didn’t have the energy with everything going on to actively be present for a larger number and as it was, I was absent to what some of my other friends went through during this time. Most people understood my absence — whether it was because they knew me well enough to know why I chose to mostly retreat into myself, or whether it was because they did the same thing. One set of friendships I had didn’t quite pan out that way. It was a set of relationships I hadn’t quite felt at home in (to put it lightly), in many years; with the pandemic, it was a feeling I could no longer ignore. While the history and the story are not ones I will go into, it goes without saying those friendships are no longer very present in my life. I loathe to admit it, because pre-pandemic me considered herself a pretty self-aware person, but when things went south with one set of friendships, I painted every friendship that was going through growing pains with the broad brush of “well another one bites the dust, I should have known better.” I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice, you see. What scared me, was that on the very dramatic evening that those friendships fell apart, I got off that three-hour long call, and rather than feeling sad, or hurt, or grieving the end of something I truly had cared about, I felt free. And relieved. The suffocation of trying and failing to be the person they demanded of me was gone. What the pandemic gave me was an opportunity. When everything I knew — my

Suddenly, I could no longer pretend to keep being somebody I wasn’t, to make other people happy. PRIYANKA KUMAR work, my life as I knew it, my friends, even my family to some extent — was stripped away from me, all I had left to contend with was myself. Suddenly, I could no longer ignore the relationships that had been breaking apart and tearing away from the inside for over four years. Suddenly, I could no longer pretend to keep being somebody I wasn’t, to make other people happy. I realized I was a human being — flawed, imperfect and just trying to make something of this ridiculous journey we all call life, and that I wanted friends around me who would support me as I grew, not demand I stay the same. While all this was a lot to deal with, the takeaway was not negligible. The pandemic held up a mirror to my biggest hypocrisy. I’d just seen the transformation of a friendship because of how unforgiving the friends in question had been to me, while doing the same to other people in my life — and, it was pretty unwarranted. It means something to me when the people I love make me feel like I’m important to them— like our friendship is important to them. It means something to me when that importance doesn’t just show up when it’s convenient to someone else, but also shows up to honor space I take for myself. Conversely, it is the same consideration I should have been dispensing freely to those I love. When I say the pandemic taught me a lot,

it’s because for the first time in my life, I could step back and see how both the positives and the negatives really made a difference to my perspective. I know now that I will absolutely be intentional about making time for those I care about when they ask for it, whether it’s because I’m showing up for a virtual birthday party, or because they’re going through a tough time and need someone to just be there. When someone’s taking space because that’s what they need, I’ve learned to pay attention to what their silence might be saying about where they’re at mentally and what they might need from me when we talk next. More than anything else, the pandemic has taught me how to be myself within my relationships, while allowing other people the space to be themselves. The fact is, we now know more than ever that our lives change irrevocably without the people we love in it — especially the friends we lean on. If those friendships aren’t nurtured with true, unconditional love they don’t last very long in the face of adversity. Those that do last though, are the ones that I hope (with the perspective my shortyet-long almost 25 years have given me), will last a lifetime. I am a few days away from my 25th birthday, and this year, I’m celebrating it differently. Alongside the calls from family and my few nearest and dearest, this year, I’m celebrating in-person with one friend — a new one. She’s a friend I made as I was going through the process of figuring out what I wanted my relationships to look like; she’s one who I can let my hair down around, and be anything or anyone with. My birthday is different this year — far less people, for one — but I find I’m equally if not more excited at the prospect of being around the people I truly feel at home with, ones I can truly call my friends. Hopefully, after my year of growth and change, they’d say the same about me.

THE GRIEF I CAN’T FEEL text + illustration EMILLY ANDRADE

grew up away from my relatives, which meant it was always just my mom Silvia, my dad Luiz and I across the world from the rest of the family. I loved my grandparents, but I was never close to them like some of my cousins. In a way that made me feel special, because I was the granddaughter that they only got to see a week out of the year. It made me feel like the favorite sometimes, even though my cousins and I knew who they liked more. At least for me it was never a competition and it never bothered me.

from each other so visits would be easier, but no. I barely remember my grandmother, I remember being extra shy around her and not wanting to visit her for too long because none of my counsins from my dad’s side were there when I visited. And my last memory of my grandpa was of him “yelling” at me for not understanding what he was saying. He had gotten to a point where he was unable to communicate, and he took his frustration out on me when my five year old heart was worried that he was not feeling well.

Growing up in Japan, I’d only go back to Brazil during my winter vacation, from about Christmas time until mid-January. That meant that I’d actually be around my grandparents only for one or two weeks out of this month-break from school. Whenever I got to Ponte Nova, a small town in the state of Minas Gerais where my parents grew up and met - they were neighbors - I’d be excited to share the room with some cousins that would also come visit, and play with them. I’ve never met my dad’s father, but the other three grandparents were in my life for a while, until 2003 when my mom’s dad and my dad’s mom passed away a month away from each other.

I saw how much my parents cried, and how hard it was for them to not be able to fly back to their families when this all happened. We were 24 hours flight away from them in the middle of the year, where my dad was busy with work. I did not know how to take care of my parents in that situation, and I can’t even imagine how hard it was for them to take care of a child during their grieving moment. I remember hugging them and giving my mother glasses of water so she could somewhat calm down from her sobs. I remember seeing my dad quietly crying on the couch with his arms on his face so I wouldn’t see his tears. That was the only time I ever saw him cry as well.

I was about six years old, and as sad as I knew I was, I did not understand grief, nor was I close enough to feel this sadness that my parents were feeling. It is important to note that because my parents grew up neighbors, both sides of the families were somewhat close, affecting the other family members as well with the passing of each. My last memory of them should’ve been at the hospital, when the doctors put their rooms across

That was about 15 years ago, and now here I am struggling to find words to describe what I am feeling with the news that my mom’s mother Denisette, my grandma, has passed away this past week. I am in the same situation as my parents 15 years ago, except with a pandemic that made this circumstance even more difficult.

This time I am not there to hold my mom while she cries. I entered a state of shock when my dad called me on a Thursday night with the news while I heard my mom cry in the background. I have not left this state of shock yet and I don’t know when I will exit, but here I am, in shock.

Then I hear my mom sniffing in the background, and that’s when I felt my heart start racing.

I could count how many times I cried this past week and it makes my heart ache because it feels like it’s wasn’t enough. My therapist said we have our own time and way of grieving, but it still doesn’t feel right to not feel anything. Because my grandma was more than nothing to me.

At that moment I was officially in a state of shock. I don’t blame my dad for delivering the news the way he did, because there is no good way to deliver news like that. Especially through a phone call, to someone that is about 8 hours flight away.

My dad was terrible at delivering the news. First of all, I knew something was wrong when I answered the call from my mom and he was the one speaking instead. Then he goes “look, something happened and I need you to stay calm … … grandma died okay?” What do you want me to say to that, dad? “Okay?”

“No” is all I said before I stopped listening to how it happened out of nowhere. She was fine just a week ago. How is she gone?

The last memory I have of my grandma is from when I called her back in January for her birthday. It was a short call - my relatives were there celebrating with her - but I saw her healthy face smiling back at me when I wished her a happy birthday, after saying “hi” about eight times to all my uncles and cousins. Did I tell her I loved her? I don’t remember. Probably not, but I’m sure she knew that I did. I still regret not saying it though, because it was the last time I talked to her “face to face.” But just in case - I love you grandma. It’s been a week and I cannot stop thinking about my mom; she sounds so strong but I know she’s hurt. I am being strong for her and showing her how much she is loved and cared for. I am her only daughter, it’s my job to be strong for her, just like she was always strong for me through my difficult times. I don’t want to break in front of her, but the truth is: I just can’t, even if I tried. Because I can’t feel the pain, and I don’t know when or if I will. It might take another week, month, or even a year. I don’t know, but all I wished was to be able to feel. Feel the sadness. Feel the grief. Feel something, because not feeling anything at all hurts, and that’s all I can feel - the pain of not feeling anything. The pain of not being able to grief.

11.000 MILES A P A R T text EMILLY ANDRADE

arina Brollo is a 22 year-old Brazilian woman that had the privilege of moving to Japan at a very young age , growing up around two different cultures which eventually shaped her to become an incredible woman. She is currently a fourth year medical student in Sao Paulo, and medicine programs usually last six years in Brazil. Because of that, she has been in the country focusing on her studies while her father Luis has been living in Japan for the past few years, working on this long distance situation within the family. Q: How did your relationship with Japan start? I first moved to Japan when I was only three years old, and we lived in Osaka until I was eight. I moved back to Brazil for a year, and then we went back to Japan again. Later on we moved to Nagoya, where I was until 2016 when I came back to Brazil to finish high school and start college. All of my best memories were made there. Q: When was the last time you visited the country? I went back in 2019 to visit my dad - who is currently working there, in a city called Yokohama, very close to Tokyo. It was super

fun, I had never been to that city so I was excited to explore and the fact that it was so close to the capital meant that there was a lot to do too. My little cousin, who was 13 at the time, was also very excited to be traveling to Japan - it was his first time there. Everything was exciting to him. For me the idea of seeing my dad and friends that I made throughout the years was the best part of the trip. Oh and the food... you can’t go wrong with Japanese food… Except for the fact that I got food poisoning on my second day there. Yea that’s how excited I was to be eating their food. Q: How was it when you went back to Brazil after living most of your life in Japan? I was pretty much Japanese when I went back. Of course I don’t look like one but I acted as such. I was pretty quiet and shy; Brazilians love to kiss and hug and that was awkward for me at first, since it is not in the Japanese culture. That was also when I was entering my senior year of high school, so we had to prepare for our SATs - which are intense, and the subjects at school were completely different. So many things that I did not understand, one thing being writing essays. I didn’t know how to write one. I’d take four hours writing about one topic - when at the SATs here you have three hours to finish the test - essays included. I felt like I was an alien, you know? From a completely different place. But people welcomed me and helped me a lot, which I am glad for. Brazilian can be horrible to newbies but I got lucky and made a lot of amazing friends who helped me adapt to the

I get anxious thinking about never going back, especially now with everything that’s going on. Marina Brollo school. In Japan I always felt like I had to have one group of friends for everything and just stick with them, but here I was part of different groups and everyone got along well, and had no pressure in that sense. Overall it was very difficult, but my friends and family gave me the strength that I needed to survive this new world. It definitely took some time to adapt, but I did it. Q: How different are the cultures? They are very different - I’d even say they’re the opposite. Growing up I never knew where I’d be at within a year, so planning ahead was complicated. But coming back to Brazil helped me evolve as a person. In Japan I felt like there were many rules while here I had all the freedom I wanted. It was possibly what I needed at the time. But then there’s the safety and security aspect that is much better in Japan. I would be traveling alone at the age of ten and I felt safe, like an adult. I’d catch the train or subway and I’d travel to the neighbouring city to visit friends. Here in Brazil, on the other hand, you never see children walking alone on the streets because of how dangerous it can be. I am 22 and I’m still scared of being alone here, or even taking an uber by myself is scary at times. Another thing is robbery. It is big here, while I never worried about it happening to me in Japan. I’d have my phone in my back pocket, and wouldn’t care about my purse as much, but here we have to keep our purses on our sight all

the time and never have your stuff in your back pocket. When it comes to environment security, Brazil does not have natural disasters, the worst thing we have is flooding around the city, so in that sense it is safer here. Q: How is it to be away from your father - who is stuck in Japan now with the whole pandemic thing? It is a difficult situation. My mom and I would always go to Japan together, and it was a beautiful routine that we had. And we always worry about him, but now especially, because of the pandemic. I am a very anxious person, so I’m always worried about people. I’m the type of person that would say things like “okay I need to talk to this person today because they might not be here tomorrow.” So I call my dad everyday. And right now I also get anxious thinking about not being able to go back to Japan anymore, or at least for now. My dad was in the country alone for a year, since no one could really travel last year. That also meant that we couldn’t get our hands on our Japanese visas, not being able to go visit him either. I’ve always been the type of person that didn’t really enjoy long distance - especially relationships - one didn’t work out because of it… So I can’t imagine how hard it is for my mom to be away from my dad now, and with me going to the city for college. I almost feel like it’s my job to go back to see my mom every weekend, just so I don’t leave her alone

for too long. I am learning to deal with long distance, because I am living alone here right now. So I am away from my mom, who’s an hour drive away from me and my dad, who is a day plane ride from me. It sucks but this is my time to grow independent. I’ve always been spoiled by my parents; they’ve always helped me with everything. So this is my time to grow up as well. Q: What’s your favorite memory of Japan? Ah this is hard, I feel like most memories that I have from Japan are great things that I will cherish forever. But I think for me it was high school. That was the time that I met a lot of people and did a lot of things. Karaoke with friends after school, shopping with them, traveling, and so much more. But I also think that my favorite memory is always with my family. I have plenty of memories with my brother, who is ten years older than me, but had a huge impact on my childhood. But then I went clubbing in Japan once. You know, Brazilians KNOW how to party and we enjoy clubbing, so I didn’t know what to expect. We’re used to twerking and shaking our butts. But then I saw how wild women can get at clubs there, I was shocked. And the music, completely different, but it’s also something I never expected Japanese people to do. It was fun. Q: Is there anything you’d change about your past? Whether living longer in Brazil or

doing things differently? No, not really. I only have to thank my parents for giving me the opportunity and privilege of growing up in Japan and having gone to a Japanese school. I speak three languages fluently because of this, and I also learned a lot about the different cultures. We all learned how to play different sports like judo, read music and play instruments in elementary school, and that wouldn’t have happened here in Brazil without extracurricular activities. I mean I started learning to play the piano when I was five years old because I’d always watch my neighbor teach the instrument to young kids. In their culture, they learn to play the piano at a very young age, while in Brazil they mainly focus on guitar lessons for younger kids. It is interesting to see these cultural differences as well. Q: I can tell you really love Japan and its culture. I do love Japan, I have a special place in my heart for it. I want to mark it with a tattoo, something that represents the country. A sakura (Japanese cherry blossom tree) is something that comes to mind, but the beauty of it is its pink coloring, and I do not want a colored tattoo. So I am still thinking about what and how to tattoo. All I know is that I want something delicate, since I am going to be a doctor and it is not well seen in the industry.

Jackie and Jack, January 2020

STEREOTYPES text JACK SYKES

f I had a pound for every time someone a bittersweet thing. told me that “long distance never works” I’d be rich. As our time in Germany came to an end we made the decision to commit to a long Jackie and I met on exchange in distance relationship. Neither of us wanted Germany in 2018. She’s Canadian and I’m it to end just because we live on different British. We were both in our second year of continents so we made a plan. In the UK, uni and had a full year to go after exchange. January is exam season. I had no written What started as a casual thing which later exams and I had no timetabled class for the became a serious thing. The beauty of my whole of January, so I had no reason to stay exchange is that in a few action packed, in the UK. This was our halfway mark. I city hopping, Pilsner fuelled, Lederhosen could visit for a whole month. It was doable. wearing months, the people around me become friends for life. I consider my The first “stint” of the long distance exchange friends as some of my closest. It’s portion of our relationship was easy to be

honest, the distractions of returning home more semester and I would be able to move after exchange and starting our final year to Canada for good, easy right? of uni took our minds off it. We chatted when we could, gave each other space and *Covid-19 enters the chat* respected each other’s schedules. Covid threw one mighty spanner into Jackie and I have always been good the works. Six months turned into one communicators. We’ve never had a fight, year. This pandemic has been draining and any issues we may have we talk them for everyone. First was uncertainty, then out. We have the utmost respect and trust worry, then stress and eventually fatigue. in one another. This is the main reason Having to deal with that alone, with the why we were able to stick it out. In a long one person that you want to be with in a distance relationship all you can really different time zone was tough. Talking do is talk. The lack of physical affection became slow and repetitive. Almost always is tough sometimes. You can’t comfort about the pandemic and never anything someone when they’re sad, hug them on new as all we could do was sit at home and their birthday or kiss them goodnight. watch the news. This was a particular hard time for us both. Visiting in January was amazing. We realised that we had never actually been My plan was to move to Canada once together in a “normal” setting - thankfully I graduated, around mid July. As borders we still liked each other. I was able to meet began to close the worry began to creep Jackie’s friends and visit all the places that in. For a time we had a small comfort that we talked about. This really brought us we were able to hold onto; that being that closer, and by the time I left our relationship we had planned to be apart until after I was as strong as ever. This gave us hope, one graduate, so really nothing had changed in

Jackie and Jack this year, after he arrived in Canada.

that regard. Until that time came there was still a chance that borders would reopen and we would wake from this nightmare. We even felt oddly prepared in a sense. Many people were forced to spend a prolonged time away from the people they love. For us we were already used to it.

“” UNCERTAINTY, FIRST WAS THEN

WORRY, THEN

STRESS, AND EVENTUALLY FATIGUE. 18

July rolled around, I had just graduated and I was stuck in the UK with no idea or plan. We searched every possible way to get me into Canada but came up with nothing. We just had to wait, and wait, and wait. The worst part was not knowing. Would I be able to fly out in a few weeks or would I have to wait another year? Who knew. We kept getting rumours of borders reopening but they never came to fruition. Eventually (I think around the end of October) I found a way to get into Canada. Finally after a full year there was light at the end of the tunnel. Eventually, after two failed attempts at flights I was on a plane in January of this year. We made it. It was easily the most difficult year in our relationship, however after enduring such a gruelling year apart i feel like we can overcome anything. Long distance is difficult. You have to really put the effort in and be willing to learn to communicate your feelings and emotions. Altogether we spent roughly one and a half years apart. That’s a long time. I can’t speak to anyone else’s experiences with long distance relationships, but for us we knew it would be worth it, and it was. I’m glad that we were the exception to the “long distance never works” stereotype.”

IT GETS EASIER WITH TIME text EMILLY ANDRADE text EMILLY ANDRADE

hen I started thinking about whose stories I could tell, my mother was the first one that came into my mind. Growing up as a single child with my parents away from the rest of the family, I got used to being just the three of us. It sounded normal, and I never understood the whole “being close to your cousins and grandparents” thing. Not until I was old enough to understand feelings, and see the importance of having them around. With everything that has been going on in the world, and the endless long distance relationships that are happening right now, I believe that family relationships are struggling more with these circumstances. This story, however, happened back in 2003, when traveling was not restricted, but work and school interfered with the goodbyes. After 2020 happened, I realized that many more people went through a similar situation that my mom went through when her father passed away and she was on the other side of the world. Not being able to return to say a last goodbye, she had to wait a few months to get closure. This is the story of Silvia’s grief.

I remember as if it was today when he had his first stroke. He was about 57 years old, and it was either 1992 or 1993. That is when he slowly fell ill. I say slowly because it took another few years for him to have another one. And another one. Until 1998, when his health started to get worse. By this time, we had moved to Japan, and technology was still in the beginning of its improvements. At first he started to have difficulties walking, starting to use a cane. When we noticed, he was using a walker to move around, and eventually, he was in a wheelchair. The strokes rapidly destroyed his neurons, and his smoking addiction worsened his lungs. He even had surgery in 1997 for his lungs. It did not take too long until he started to have difficulties to talk and eventually he was always in bed, while we had to figure out what he was trying to say. We knew that his time was coming to an end. Each year we’d go back to Brazil once a year and we would spend time with him as if it was the last time we’d see him. At this point I had to come to peace with the fact that I might be away when he passed. You were so young, and he loved you so much, and I hate that you do not have a memory of him while healthy. He was short, bald with some grey hair on its sides, and he used to have a belly before he fell ill. He was very traditional and serious, he didn’t like the new, modern things. I mean, he made my niece come on dates with me so your dad and I wouldn’t do anything inappropriate! A lot of things weren’t right in his eyes, but he also had his fun side. He’d make jokes and make us laugh all

the time. He was the comedian of the family. He’d have times he wouldn’t take life too seriously, but he’d also lie a lot - as a joke - and forget those lies which would always end up becoming a truth. We were living in Rio before moving to Japan, so when you were born my parents came to visit you, and dad was so scared that he’d have a stroke while with you that he would only hold you while sat down. He would look at you with awe and he’d treat you like glass. He was still smoking back then and he almost cried when he accidentally burned one of your little clothes. Once we were settled in Japan and it became our home, we’d only go back to Brazil during your winter vacation. That’d be late December until mid January. That’s not a lot of time, but enough to see everyone. But towards the end of his life it was getting harder to leave, since I had that mentality that his time was approaching. He’d rely on a feeding tube to eat, and he’d wear diapers all day. We had to hire a caretaker, and get a hospital bed to accommodate dad at home. He wasn’t talking anymore, and would be in his room all day, with people coming in and out to spend time with him. Things were bad in 2003, so during your summer vacation we planned a longer trip back to Brazil. Your grandma on your dad’s side was also very ill so it was almost necessary to go back that summer. It felt needed. It felt like a goodbye. We were there from June until August. They were both at the hospital, and since we are from a small town and they knew that both families were close, they put their rooms across from each other so that visits were done easily. My last memory of my dad was of him at the hospital. He passed away in October of that year. Your dad had to travel for work, and we decided to go to a mall on that Sunday afternoon. It was just past noon when we left, and we were about to enter the highway when my cell phone rang. It was an international number. I was caught by surprise, since at this point I was calling mom every day in the mornings and evenings, since we had a 12 hour difference. So in my head everything was going

There’s no way of preparing someone for a death, but you try your best. Silvia Andrade well, at least that’s what my mom had told me that morning. So I park my car to answer the phone. It was the call I didn’t want to receive. Your dad was the one that was supposed to get the call, but because of work, he was not able to answer your uncle when he tried contacting him. So I had to be the one receiving the message. We drove back home, I cried for a bit, but then I didn’t do it in front of you anymore. I didn’t want you to feel grief. I didn’t want to worry my six years old daughter. You knew what happened, and even tried to make me a glass of water with sugar to calm me down, but you couldn’t reach the sugar. That was so sweet and cute of you. I could tell you were trying to be calm for me at that time, which surprised me. You were too young to understand loss, even though we had gone through a different loss a year before that. So I waited for your father to be back, and that’s when I allowed myself to cry. I waited hours to allow myself to feel the pain. I spend the whole day playing and distracting you - us - so that you wouldn’t suffer. The caretaker was the one who saw the signs that he was slowly passing. We had hired a woman that would be staying with my dad at night to take care of him, so he was basically training her when he saw the signs. Two of my brothers lived right next to mom so he called them to come see and help - basically say their goodbyes. Your grandma noticed, but I do not know if she had a chance to say goodbye. All I know is that they did not allow her to watch him go. They gave her some medication so she’d fall asleep and not suffer at that moment. It was midnight for them,

and noon for us. He was gone, and he was only 68. When you lose someone and you are not present - you can’t believe that they’re gone. These things of not seeing the dead body, that’s hard. But at the same time it’s a good thing, because my last memory that I have is of him alive. Ill in the hospital, but alive. That is definitely much better than seeing him dead at his funeral. We were way too far, and even though we wanted to go back - since your father lost his mom exactly a month before I lost my dad - we knew we couldn’t. And deep down we knew it was gonna happen sooner than later, and we were preparing ourselves for it. There’s no way of preparing someone for a death, but you try. your best. And with that, I also prepared myself mentally that when this would happen, I wouldn’t be able to go back. But you eventually go back. That December when we went back for the first time, it felt weird. That’s when it hit me, because that’s when I SAW that he was gone. I was present in a place that he wasn’t anymore. Even though I expected it, I didn’t want to believe it, and at that point I had to. We know they are dead, but when you physically go to where all the good and bad memories with that person were…. You know when your heart beats really fast and you feel that everything is different and SEE that they are different? That anxiety of imagining that you’re close to home yet you won’t see him there? It was like my heart

was going to explode. I had to mentally prepare myself when we drove to my old house, because I didn’t want to show you my anxiety nor show my mom how I was feeling. I mean I cried when I saw mom. We cried together, but then we smiled. He was finally in peace. Your uncle Ricardo took me to the cemetery when we were back that year. Just me and him. I felt peace, and some type of closure. He was finally resting. He was trapped to his hospital bed alone for three years, and many more before struggling with his illness. He couldn’t express his feeling anymore but we knew he was suffering. It was sad, but it felt peaceful. After that day, I only went back once more to visit his grave, and I took you with me. You were old enough to understand, even though the beed scared you away and left me and your uncle alone there. But I know you felt it. My favorite memory of him is of when he’d take care of me, or he’d come back from his business trips with little gifts. I always had a lot of hair and they were very curly, which meant that it took forever to detangle them. Dad had more patience so he’d sit me on the floor and he would slowly brush my hair. Another one is of when my sibling and I were younger and we’d have road trips. Five kids and two adults in a Volkswagen Beetle. Don’t know how we all fit there but we did. Mom would bring coffee for the road trip, and dad would smoke - which made me get car sick very easily. It was still good though, and I enjoyed those little times. Wow, I haven’t talked about him with such details. I needed this. Thank you.