To be with another

My dear grandfather is in the hospital.  The fact that he should be fine doesn't lessen my wish for his well-being or the intensity of the care that I feel towards him.  If only we were endowed with the ability to bring comfort to all corners of one another's lives, but it seems there are so many parts that each must walk alone.  It hurts to see it, hurts to feel it, the distance between us and another person.  But there are many things that seem like distance.   A lifetime, a language, an ocean.  Are they the real measure of distance?  Perhaps there is something which spans the arch of their measure, which transcends their space and time.  Somewhere, in some way, we all live together.  Distance ceases to exist and I hold your hand beyond.