When I was twelve years old, my parents took me and my three brothers to Croatia to see our great-grandparents. A typical teenager, I was disconnected and  just wanted to play video games. 

In 2025 great-grandmother had survived a stroke at age 94. I decided it was time to go back to see her one last time. 

Life there was hard. My family were sheep farmers, no plumbing, little electricity. My grandparents came to America for a better life. 

When I arrived, great-grandma had been bed ridden for six months, it was almost like seeing a newborn.

I thanked her for starting our family, and she started weeping. My grandma told her not to be sad, because her family will live on, and she stopped crying after that. 

She passed away two weeks after I left. This time, as an adult, I understood what family meant.