Coping with that late-night call from the people you love most

My first thought when my western family texts after 10 p.m.: Did someone just die?

It’s late. The call or the text comes from your parents. “You up?”

“You home?”

“Can we call you?”

The reaction is immediate: Oh dear God, who has died?

When you live far away from the people you love — I’ve lived away from my family for more than a half-decade now — a lot of your relationship happens over the phone, or FaceTime or text message or email. It’s great to hear from friends and family back home.

Sometimes, that unexpected text or call is nice. But when it happens at odd hours, it’s a heart-stopping event. Not a nice surprise, like finding an unexpected letter, but a smack from reality that’s like a truncheon across the chest.

I remember walking up the steps in my apartment one night — it may actually have been early morning — and my phone rang. It was my parents. What on earth were they doing calling at that hour?

It was late in Edmonton … why were they up? What had happened? Who, among those I cared about, was hurt or dead?

Twice, since I’ve moved here, it has turned out that someone I loved had died, or was dying. Both paternal grandparents passed away while I lived in Ottawa; I’ll regret forever that I wasn’t in Edmonton for their final moments.

But mostly, it’s been false alarms. I don’t mean to make this sound like an inconvenience — it isn’t — but it is a matter of icecold fear cutting right through you.

This happened just the other night. I’ve been going to bed early because I have a new puppy and it’s sort of like having a baby and I’m so exhausted I can barely see or punctuate a sentence.

But I woke up to that message. Thank goodness I didn’t look at it when I took the dog out to pee at 3 a.m.; I would’ve spent the rest of the morning worrying. But there it was, a text message that arrived at 10:48 the night before: “You still up.”

Oh God.

I whipped off a quick text message to my mom: “What’s up?”

Then, I texted each of my sisters. It was 7-ish in the morning in Edmonton. They might be up, getting ready for work. “Is someone dead? Mom texted me at 10:45 asking if I was up.”

Kelsey, my littlest sister: “Not to my knowledge.” Well, that’s a relief.

Then, some time later, from my mom: “Nothing. I was just going to call.” Ugh.

And so, off to Twitter I went — because where better to bemoan what parents do than social media where they don’t see what you say? — with a hot piece of advice: Parents. Think twice about doing this.

There’s probably some better way to manage the etiquette of the whole affair. That said, I’m not sure what it is.

As it turns out, I’m not alone. A handful of youthful compatriots responded saying they, too, had experienced the pristine terror of a late night correspondence from their parents.

Meanwhile, my boss, who is my parents’ age, astutely tweeted at me that this problem occurs in reverse too: that sudden text from your kid in a far-off place at midnight.

All of which is to say, heat-stopping false alarms are a consequence of staying in touch with loved ones.

It’s a blessing — in a contorted sort of way — not only to have people you care about who are on the horn trying to get hold of you, but that there is also a mental Rolodex of people whose death would upset you greatly.

Then again, maybe it’s nice to be reminded, in those momentary flashes of panic, how good it is to love, and be loved.