When my grandfather died, grief arrived in ways I didn’t expect. It wasn’t only about losing him—it was about seeing how family history showed up in the days that followed. Relatives traveled over states and countries, trying to gather, booking flights, sending messages back and forth. Some of us were able to come together, others not. The distances weren’t just about geography; they were about years of migration, work that pulled people away, and histories of upheaval. Anyone who has lived far from family knows this truth: distance is rarely measured in miles alone.