Get your tissue

Rachel was the sister of a friend of mine. This letter is from her Dad. Rachel's funeral is today.

Rachel. My sweet, perfect, adorable, pure, brave, sophisticated, thoughtful, friendly, caring, loving, smiling, perfect Rachel. How deep the heaves of sorrow reflect the depths of the love we shared. How the hours pass slowly without you. How painful are the unwritten memories. How grateful the hurting heart is for nineteen years with no regrets. Rachel, you who were blooming so beautifully in the garden you were creating for yourself, a rose plucked by the gardener at full bloom. Words fail to express what tears, sobs, rich dark pains of sorrow and long moments of silence convey so well. Without love there would be no sorrow and this deep long sorrow reflects well the deep long love we shared together. It was an honour, a privilege, a rich and satisfying experience to be your father. Thank you. If the grief lasts a lifetime without relent, I would have fathered you a thousand times over without a moment’s regret.I have heard it repeatedly expressed that the vision of Rachel’s ending days and final moments are causing many people pain. This entry is to speak to that pain and answer questions. I wish I could sit down with each of you personally and share my journey back to Victoria the day after her death. A painful but necessary journey seeking answers and connecting with Rachel’s life in Victoria. To start at the end, Rachel died a peaceful death with her Aunt and Uncle, Pamela and Larry, who she loved, with her at her side. Her passing was so quiet, so unobtrusive, so Rachel like, that even though they were helping her sit up in her bed to be more comfortable at the time of her death, for a moment they hadn’t noticed that she had passed. They both knew CPR. By fortune the ambulance was only blocks away and arrived in one or two minutes. The ambulance staff worked long and hard but in the end were devastated that they could not revive this young, previously healthy nineteen year old body back to life. What nobody knew was that pneumonia was lurking in the chest of this frail young woman, a monster who reared its head quickly and decisively with little warning to snatch Rachel’s life rudely from aunt and uncle, family, parents, friends and world to come.This took place around noon. Even though Pamela and Larry have full time jobs and it was the middle of the weekday, they were both there. This reflects the heroic care they showered on Rachel since taking her into their care a few days before. They had given Rachel a princess perfect room with a south facing window on a hill in her perfect Victoria. They woke up regularly at night to check on her and came home frequently during the day. My sweet, worthy Rachel was given the best of care and just the day before had seen a doctor to assure all of us that her condition was stable. You can pray for Pam and Larry as you can imagine how, despite there perfect efforts, they can’t but help but question their every decision and every action wondering if they could have made a difference. I am so grateful for their loving care for my daughter. Pamela and Larry are taking on the pain of doubt that we, her parents, should be bearing. What a great gift at this time sorrow. Thank you.Backing up a bit, in the weeks prior Rachel had been feeling tired. After a few trips to the doctor it was determined that she was suffering from mono. Mono’s symptoms can be mild or severe. Rachel’s turned out to be severe. Rather than staying in her small, humble basement suite, she moved in with her grandfather who lived nearby. Grandpa Ed and her uncle Mike tended to her care. Her mother, Sheila, spent several days with Rachel in Victoria as her symptoms worsened and then stabilized. Sheila had been on vacation with her father prior to Rachel falling ill and had been away from her family for fifteen days and so returned to Saskatoon. We had checked with friends who suffered severe mono and surfed the Internet for answers. Rachel was taken in to see doctors four times in about a week to check that her condition was stable and her symptoms those of mono. Everything confirmed that mono can be uncomfortable and painful, but ride it out and eventually all would be OK. It was asked if she should be taken to emergency but the reply from trained doctors was no, she was stable. Sheila was scheduled to return to Victoria to tend to her beautiful, suffering daughter on Friday. I guess what I am trying to express is that so many decision were made for Rachel’s benefit. Time nor money nor effort nor anything was placed ahead of Rachel’s welfare, yet tragedy struck. Everyone involved did the best they could. Period. The coroner is doing a full investigation that will take weeks to complete as samples are sent to specialized laboratories across Canada and records are reviewed to make sense of this tragedy. A natural focus of our anger is the doctors and the medical establishment, that somehow they should have caught this, have noticed, have diagnosed, have done better. But right now we don’t know the answers. We do know that nobody intended malice, no doctor treated Rachel without care and attention. I have been assured by the coroner that the doctors who attended to Rachel will be included in the investigation to avoid this from happening again. At this time I prefer to give the doctors the benefit of the doubt and assume that the symptoms were hidden and easily missed. But to be truthful my anger flares and the only direction that seems appropriate is the faceless medical system. I hope this description brings some relief to those who share my tears. If you have questions, contact me and I will answer them as truthfully as I can. At this time I try to be gentle on myself on the decisions that I made and I hope others do the same. As a symbol of Rachel’s gentle influence on the world, doorbells and phones ring constantly from fellow grievers brave enough to share the pain with our family, the outpouring of food has required a 2nd deep freezer, flowers abound and the sobs of grief at the news of her death carry through the phone lines. Our neighbourhood, where Rachel came shortly after her birth, is planting a tree in the park across the street as a tribute to her gentle influence.The tears that drop to the keyboard are two types. There are the tears of what never became. The mother. The wife. The maturing daughter. The education and career. The love. The other tears are for what was. I visited Rachel’s room and wept my bitterest tears. Her’s was a room of love. Of pictures of family and friends. Of little notes to herself to be a better person. Of to do lists filled with actions to bring joy to others like “write Joseph a birthday card” (Joseph showed me this - a hand made card filled with accurate, personal, beautifully expressed thoughts of gratitude), “visit Grandpa and talk about his Hawaii trip” (at a time when she felt listless with the onset of mono). How proud I was to call the previous occupant of this small room my daughter. Rachel, here’s to nineteen years with no regrets. -- Dad