...got the text message saying my Grandfather passed away in one of those odd train stations between Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn. So it hits me like a bomb and I immediately lose reception. Frustrated. Trapped in the subway cart, on the way to a meeting, that I am both not sure I can concentrate in and welcoming so I can think about something other than this. 

Calls, to New York, Miami, and Jamaica commence. My brother is the one I am most concerned with and at this moment the one I still cannot reach. 

I sit here remembering writing in the Tribe, last May, about making sure I made a trip to go see familyintermittent with all these NomadnessX trips and personal trips. It was my brother who checked me on that. And last May my then boyfriend and I met in Montego Bay and I saw the whole family. My step father's family, yet none the less, these people raised me a good part of my younger years until they themselves moved back to Jamaica. I was warned, 'He may not remember you.'

What I was not ready for was the emotional toll that I would take looking at someone suffering from moderate to sever Alzheimer's. He mentally floated between me, my mom, and a stranger. Not knowing which I was depending on the moment. Rougher than I ever imagined. It was then that I realized how important this trip was. I needed to see them. They needed to see me and I am never more grateful than today for taking that trip last May. It had been about a decade before then. 

Now the nomad is hit with life. This is the 3rd death I have had to deal with in the last three summers. Rudi, Shalanda, Grandpa Williams. I am learning to dread this season. This is also when being a travel oriented entrepreneur gets tricky. This happens as I am supposed to fly out to Spain next Tuesday night for the NomadnessX trip. Now, it is all about how to get to Jamaica for at least a day before then. Trying to breathe and pace myself. Just breathe.