From: my dad
Time: 2:22pm (Paris time)
Subject: Time to proceed
Message: Well, I am dressed and Mom is out of the shower. We have to be across the street in 45 minutes. Time to make my life be better and safer. I will be in REALLY great hands. Will talk to you tomorrow. Love you. I really appreciate your thoughts. Dad
And 9 hours later, we find out he’s got a tumor on his bladder and it’s most likely invasive and cancerous.
The brain acts in such interesting ways when it receives such information. Shock, yes. Automatic pilot, yes. My sister is telling me this on Skype, but the connection is bad. I ask her to hold on a second, cross the hallway and ask the neighbor to stop using his internet for a few minutes. (I’ve been squatting on it for 2 years now.) What did my sister just say? Something bladder. Something about Thursday and some tissue and some results. What’s going on?
And I’m so far away. That’s the kicker. I love this guy more than anything and have purposefully distanced myself from my family to live a life of wonder and lust and adventure. And all this feels so goddamn selfish right now. I wish I could be by his side with my mother and sister as he wakes up. Surrounded by love, by all his family members. Instead, I keep thinking good thoughts and hoping that he can feel them and appreciates them still.
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