One last day of packing and he would be on his way, leaving behind the city that had been his home for the last six years. He had already picked up the Ryder truck, and the shadow of its yellow bulk enshrouded the front yard like some massive carrion-feeder, lying in wait to devour the remains of the existence he was casting aside. One phone call from his father and a short discussion set everything in motion, sending Russell Grove down a life-path he hadn’t even realized was there before. To his surprise, his friends were not as convinced.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Steve, as they relayed packing boxes up the steel ramp into the Ryder truck. “You know you’re leaving a good career behind.”
“Kind of late to reconsider at this point,” Russ answered. “But yes, quite sure. I need to go do this with my dad.”
Steve was the sort of guy who acted like your best friend within a week. In a way, Russ envied him that trait and sometimes wished he could be more like him. But then that would make leaving all the more difficult. Most of Russ’s work associates had pretty much the same reaction, most even less understanding than Steve. It seemed hard for them to comprehend that an almost middle-aged man would really want to give up home and career just to go do something with his father.
Russ and his father were close, but not what you would call pals. They did a lot of things together when Russ was a child, but as he grew older his father was wise enough to back off and let him find his own way. Russ really preferred it that way; he didn’t have a lot of friends, but he knew that only one man could ever be his father.
When his father called to ask Russ if he could come back home and help him out with something, he wasn’t immediately sure how to respond. It didn’t sound like the usual “How about coming for a visit” request. It sounded more like his dad was asking for a favor. Russ could not recall his father ever asking him for anything before. Sure, as a child his dad gave him plenty of chores, and asked him to go camping, fishing, or on some other fun excursion, but this was different. He had never thought about it before, but he had asked his father countless times to do things for him. He could always count on his father for a hand with any project around the house. His dad never hesitated, whatever Russ asked. This was a first, though. For once Russ wasn’t the one doing the asking.
“Sure, dad,” Russ answered his father after a moment’s hesitation, “How long a visit? A week or so?”
“Maybe. But maybe a little longer.”
“What’s up, dad? Are you actually going to take me up on that fishing trip to Canada?” Russ asked.
“Not exactly, Russell.” His father paused before continuing. “I went to see your mother’s doctor a few days ago about this backache I’ve been having for the last few weeks.”
Russ knew that as much as his father hated going to the doctor, his back must be really hurting for him to go see one. His dad never complained about anything, not that he ever got sick, and it was not like him to ask for help, no matter how much pain he was in. “What’s going on, dad? Did you find out what the problem is?”
“They did some tests, and told me I have pancreatic cancer.”
His father’s words shot into Russ’s brain as if someone had jolted him with a stun gun. “Have they started treatment? What is the prognosis,” he asked numbly.
“No treatment. Said it’s too far gone. Gave me five weeks at the most. Your mother’s not really accepting all this, and to be honest, she hasn’t been thinking all that clearly for the last few months. I’d really appreciate it if you could be around for when, well, things start to get bad. I’d feel a lot better knowing you were around to help out with things for awhile.”
Russ had thought about it before, and how it would feel, but the feelings that the words of his father were creating in him were not what he expected. Shock, concern, and sadness, yes, but also a numbness, and strangely a feeling of obligation and resolve, as if his father had awakened some post-hypnotic suggestion that told him what he needed to do.
“Sure, dad,” he choked out a tearful reply. “I can come for as long as you need.”
This was the first time his father had asked for a favor, but it was also the first time he was going to lose a parent. But it wasn’t the “firsts” that were on his mind; it was how many things were going to be “last times” with his dad.