It's been time. Some time.
I've spent the past two weeks living in a small room in a hostel in Munich and teaching high schoolers about the English they already know and the States they don't know. All of the youngsters in the classes are bound for foreign countries as exchange students next year.
It paid well.
In my down time, I've been touristing a bit and also jogging. Until the last time I did it, which resulted in me not being able to go down stairs comfortably. So I stopped and my knees have already mostly recovered. But no more jogging.
I haven't had a regular internet connection, but I've nevertheless been visiting a local cybercafe.
And it's where I learned of the passing of my "Aunt" Mitz, who really falls into the category of great aunt.
I learned of her death two days after the fact via email. It had been coming, since she had been in and out of the hospital quite a bit recently.
Of course, upon reading the email I was saddened. It was difficult. It was hard and depressing.
But I also felt weirdly distant - the distance being caused by the fact that I never spent too much time with her physically and was merely the recipient of a two-times-a-year monetary gift for my general well-being.
So upon reading it, I first felt shocked and saddened, but shortly after that I realized that I had a $300 check from her sitting on my desk back in Prague. One she had sent me back in March sometime.
And that struck me as particularly symbolic. She was a generous woman to me and my family, but I didn't really know her too well. I made it a point whenever I traveled to send her a postcard from every city I visited. She got a kick out of them and I enjoyed sending them to her, because I knew that she got a kick out of them.
So I sent her one from Prague shortly before I left for Munich.
And I'm hoping it made it there before she passed away.
And there I was in Munich, caught off-guard by a death that was anticipated but not so soon.
Naturally, it was incumbent upon me to send her husband a card of condolences, but I don't know him at all. I've only met him in person 3 times in my life. He generally disregards my side of the family - Aunt Mitz was our blood relative, he's not.
Nevertheless, when I bought the card and had it in my hand, it felt less like paper and more like a rock. It was an even better symbol for my relationship with her. I found it very difficult to actually drop it in the mailbox because it brought a certain closure to a part of my life thus far.
I've considered continuing to send postcards, but addressing them to my great Uncle. But I know he won't appreciate them like my Aunt Mitz. Maybe I still will.
I always considered Aunt Mitz to have a very familiar voice. I can still hear it now. I know her more by voice than appearance because a vast majority of the few direct interactions I ever had with her were via the phone.
So, I'll never get to hear my name pronounced by her warm voice again.
Rest in peace, Aunt Mitz. You were always pleasant, generous and friendly; and you will be missed.