#Unsettled

I was on my way to a friend’s house for a girls’ night when my phone rang. It was my grandmother, calling completely out of the blue. I had been thinking about reaching out to her for weeks, but I never hit the dial. It seems she had the same thought.  We spoke for almost an hour—a wonderful, easy conversation filled with love.

When we hung up, I sat in my car for fifteen minutes, parked in front of my friend’s house, and sobbed. Hard.  I wasn’t sad. But the emotion just overtook me, a sudden, powerful release I just had to let out. It became a break down, a reset, and now, a deep reflection on lost time.

While my father’s career meant constant moving, my parents ensured we maintained our roots and always knew where we came from. We never doubted the enduring love from our extended families, though it was certainly expressed with the characteristic volume and warmth of my maternal Greek side, I never once questioned the love from my paternal side.

My grandmother and I discussed my mother, who was the absolute glue that held everything and everyone together. Since her passing, there has been a void—a change in gravity that affects every extended connection.

The conversation turned when my grandmother acknowledged that the same hole lives within my own children, having grown up without a maternal grandmother. My heart broke because I could relate completely: I grew up without one, too, and I know that ache.

Now, my children have an incredible step-grandmother who loves them selflessly and keeps my mother’s memory alive through stories. They also have a paternal grandmother involved in their lives.   Right now is pretty darn good. But hearing that void spoken aloud—seeing that generational heartache mirrored in my own kids—just hit me. That was the tear-jerker.

But with that void comes perspective. We learned to love each other out loud. We hug hard, we speak honestly, and we don’t hold back the joy of connection. That’s how we roll.

My breakdown in the car was about more than grief; it was an apology. It was the sudden realization of how much time I spend thinking about people I love and how little time I spend dialing them.

Time goes by so quickly, and if we don’t stop to smell the roses, it passes us by.

We tell ourselves we’re too busy, and it’s a two-way street. Yes, the pendulum swings both ways, and if your efforts go unanswered, sometimes the “drift” was meant to be. But what if they are thinking about you, too, wondering the exact same thing: How do we reconnect?

Both my mother and grandmother were taken far too young, leaving things unfinished. But I still have time with those who are still here, especially an aging family.

This post is a promise. A realization that the true magic in life isn’t about perfect recipes or flawless careers—it’s about facilitating those relationships. While I’m not the greatest at picking up the phone, I’m changing that. My door is always open, and I will always take your call. But more importantly: I will start dialing.

Who is the one person you’ve been meaning to call or text for months? Stop reading, dial them right now, and tell us the result!