When my grandmother passed away in August of 2004, I lost one of my best friends. We spent countless hours, evenings and afternoons talking about the news, choices made, and the ways of the world. She had a smile and kind greeting for everyone she met, and a sense of empathy for each one of them that weighed heavily on her at times.

With her, you completely forgot that decades separated your experiences, and she had a sense of humour that simply made her a joy to be around.

She wanted everything for me, but mostly she wanted me to see the world, and never settle for 'just enough'. She had few regrets that she shared with me, but when she talked about her unrealized dream of owning a little antique store and traveling the world to fill it with treasures, she had the slightest sadness in her eyes.

In 2005, almost a year to the day that she died, I moved to Korea. I took a photo of her in a small frame, and carried it with me on the plane. It went on every adventure I took those two years, and since then. In each new place, I open the back and write the name of the country we are now in, so we can keep track of all the places she's been.

There are times when the loss of her is particularly hard to bear. Like me, she was drawn to butterflies. The beautiful way that they constantly moved just out of reach. Their seemingly effortless flight.

White butterflies seem to be everywhere these past few weeks. As soon as the sun slips out from behind the clouds, they take flight and follow us along on our walks or lure us out from indoors.

She would love the adventure of Germany. The people, the culture, the architecture, the gardens and food. She would hold a cup of strong german coffee in her hands and close her eyes to take in the smell. I would introduce her to my husband and she would look him straight in the eye and tell me I did good, then tease him relentlessly as he blushed.

With those that we truly love and have lost, it's the opportunity to just sit with them and talk for a while that we find we miss most. To share our lives with them.

She would be proud of her grandchildren. For making their own path and never forgetting their roots. She would be proud at every misstep, for our ability to regain our balance. At every tear, for our ability to feel empathy, and at every goal achieved, for the chance to find our strengths.

She would constantly remind me that we can't control everything that happens in our lives, but that we choose the cast of characters who accompany us, and that is the most important part.

I miss her. With tears, with laughter, with old photos and the map that covers an entire wall of our house.

Beijing, China

Osaka, Japan

North Korea