first
When you get an email telling you that a loved one is truly ill....
But this email was different. A sinking feeling came over me as I stared at the words on the computer screen. My MacBook Pro, which had been a tool for so many productive things—writing and editing, TED talks and Jon Stewart—became a harbinger of devastating news. My body had a physical reaction, like the wind had been knocked out of me. I felt sick. I also felt an unexpected relief. My dad had been suffering more than I knew, and I sensed that this was the beginning of the end.
Watching a loved one suffer is a painful—and individual—experience. He was my mom’s husband for 50 years, my nephew Adam’s grandpa, my cousin Mike’s uncle, but he was my dad. I was angry and frustrated, but I was also comforted by the buffer zone the electronic communication provided.
A trip from Toronto to Melville, my hometown in Saskatchewan, followed that “Dad Update” message. There were difficult conversations with my mom, the doctor and my nephew and his girlfriend, Kelsey, who had made the trip from Alberta. We sat at his bedside watching the Canadian curling championships on a crappy little TV while I texted my siblings with updates on his lack of improvement. When Adam and I returned to our respective homes, the emails continued. The messages got heavier as my dad got sicker, until he passed away—16 days after that initial note.
Our family spans the country from Ontario to British Columbia. We text, email, phone and Skype. Our communication is often condensed, abridged and electronic. There is a strange power in virtual communication that sometimes makes difficult things easier to say. Or type, rather. And even though we are miles apart, it’s technology that allows us to be connected so that we can be together, alone.
From: “Mom&Dad” To: “Lana”
Sent: Tuesday, February 14, 2012, at 3:59 P.M.
Subject: Dad Update Hi, Just a heads-up that Dad isn’t doing as well as we expected. He’s in a lot of pain, and the Dr. ordered a higher level of morphine for him. I’ll be going back to see him in about a half hr & check if that helped any. In the meantime, he ordered a dozen roses to be sent to me for Valentine’s Day through Mike K., who picked them up & delivered them from the florists, as a surprise. The card says “Happy Valentine’s Day, Marg. From Ted & the family.” So thank you for the roses, via your dad, the sweet & lovable man that he is. I took pictures of them to show him when I get to the hospital tonight. Lots of love, Mom
From: “Lana” To: “Mom&Dad”
Sent: Tuesday, February 14, 2012, at 5:05 P.M.
Subject: re: Dad Update Well, Happy Valentine’s Day! And thanks for the update. I know Adam is planning to come and visit, but I’m going to look into flights too. Talk soon. Love, Lana xo
From: “Lana” To: “Adam”
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2012, at 6:22 P.M.
Subject: En route home...almost Flight is delayed. Oh well. More time to sit and think...like that’s what I need. :-p It sucks to have to go through this, but I am so glad you were there. At least we can share this shitty experience. You are one of my favourite people. Let me know what else you find out from Doc Eskwichawatezch.
Big hugs. Auntie L h Each month, we ask a Canadian writer to share a story about a significant “first” in his or her life. Lana Pesch chose to write about the first time she realized, via email, that her father was seriously ill. Pesch’s debut short-story collection, Moving Parts,
was released in October 2015.
From: “Adam” To: “Lana”
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2012, at 6:22 P.M. No condition change to speak of since you left. Dr. Eschewkshepants didn’t come back, but I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Kelsey and I are about to read Grandpa one of your stories for a bedtime story. How’s that for sentimental!
Love, A
From: “Lana” To: “Adam”
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2012, at 8:22 P.M. Make sure you get some alone time with Grampa. It helped me a lot. Just to tell him how much I love him and that he’s the best dad anyone could ask for and that it’s hard to see him in pain. He just smiled. He said the pain wasn’t too bad. And he said I was doing a good job! Simple. Basic. Meaningful. Moments. That’s all that life is, really.
From: “Adam” To: “Lana”
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2012, at 11:36 P.M.
Subject: re: En route home...almost Sometimes I hate that you’re a writer! That email makes me well up—had to read it over and over again till it got easier to reply.
Sent from my iPhone
From: “Lana” To: “Adam”
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2012, at 11:38 P.M. Boarding now. I think we’re pretty numb to any shocking or scary news, but I still want an update from the good Dr. Eschanoolavetz before you leave for Edmonton.
From: “Adam” To: “Lana”
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2012, at 11:42 P.M. Will do. And yes, not sure what would be new or shocking anymore. Dr. Eshnuffalupogus seems to know what he’s doing, as much as he (or anyone) can do.
Sent from my iPhone
From: “Adam” To: “Lana”
Sent: Wednesday, February 22, 2012, at 10:55 P.M.
Subject: Stage 4 Well Grandma and Kelsey went home earlier than I did, so I got to take care of him, which I thought was pretty awesome in a weird way. Said a bunch of what needed to be said and he said some things that were just way too damn sweet, then I waited in the parking lot crying uncontrollably for my ride. (K is still quite awesome.) Re: prognosis. Dr. Eshawashcopepahyfe finally said it. Stage 4. If you Google “undifferentiated transitional cell carcinoma” (quotation marks needed), there are a lot of case studies. He says it’s probably going to spread (that’s kind of the definition of cancer, after all), likely to a lung, but not life-ending since Grandpa “can live with one lung.”
Love you, A
From: “Lana” To: “Rami”
Sent: Friday, March 2, 2012, at 10:48 P.M.
Subject: Some news Hey Rami,
Well. I am writing with a bit of sad news. I won’t be able to attend next week’s writing group as my dad passed away yesterday (March 1st) morning. I’m heading back to SK on Saturday. The funeral is Wednesday. Very glad I took your advice and was able to have a good visit, say goodbye. He was in very good spirits considering the circumstances. I feel like I’ve been dealing with this for the last while so the blow isn’t as bad as it could be. But still. Fucking cancer. I’ll be there for at least two weeks, maybe longer to help my mom sort things out. Please tell the group to meet without me on the 7th. It only seems appropriate.
Lana xo
From: “Rami” To: “Lana”
Sent: Friday, March 2, 2012, at 10:55 P.M.
Subject: re: Some news Oh Lana! So quickly! I am sorry. But glad that you got to be together. It will be pretty surreal for some time, I think. Of course don’t worry about the writing group this month. I wish you smooth travels tomorrow and peacefulness throughout. There will be lots of different feelings that come, I expect, to be welcomed and let go. Much care, Rami
From: “Lana” To: “Mike”
Sent: Friday, September 21, 2012, at 3:06 P.M.
Subject: Hi hello + a new story (contest winner) Hope this finds you well and falling headfirst into fall. Sending this while it’s top of mind, before I forget. The attached pdf is something I wrote for a class I took last spring. I think you might like it.
Death sure gives you a new perspective, don’t you think? Dad’s death is with me every single day. It’s his passing that, I think, has had a lot to do with me following my heart. Life is change, and the loss of a parent is a strange and difficult rite of passage. But I also think I’ve lost some of that perspective since March and want to get it back. i.e., don’t sweat the small stuff, it’s just a ride, etc. Any advice?
The changing of the seasons seems to be the perfect time to tell people how much they mean to you, so thank you for being you. Corny but true! Was great to reconnect at the funeral...of all places. Also, we’ve been trying out a mostly vegetarian diet since June. (Oysters excepted.) A fun experiment.
Much love, Lana
From: “Mike” To: “Lana”
Sent: Saturday, September 22, 2012, at 5:06 P.M. Your story and email got here when I needed a breath of fresh air. Thank you. And congrats. As far as rites of passage go, you’ve summed that up well. Life is definitely change. Like both of our dads, we had the time to say goodbye. We had time to let them know how much we cared and how much we loved them. Some will say that cancer (or other diseases) is slow and painful and a terrible way to go, but it’s not a reversible choice. Take the best of the last days with your dad, etch them in your brain and play them in your happy place when needed. Works for me, and that’s paraphrased from the shrink who worked me through my bumps.
You know...when you think about it...this cousin thing is nearly perfect. You love to write and I love to read. Keep up the good work. Say, what wine does one pair with a vegetarian diet? Red with mushrooms, white with tofu, champagne with Snicker Doodles? I’ll keep the rest of the cheapassed comments for a face-to-face.
Love, Mike n