Donation protected
My dad was many things, but one thing he was not, was a greed. He has given everything he possibly could to keep myself and our family with a roof over our heads, food in our stomachs, and love in our hearts. I would never ask for anything unless necessary, and even with that being the case right now, I still feel embarrassed doing so. Yet here I am.
For anyone who does not already know the story...our beloved dad passed away very suddenly on January 20th, 2021.
For years now my dad has had stomach ulcers, or at least that's what we were told by doctors. They never bothered him too much, other than how annoying it was for him to take medication every few hours "SUCK IT UP, PRINCESS". However, nearing the end of last year (2020) dads stomach began hurting on a level he had never experienced before. He wasn't able to eat food as he normally did (despite his slender *BUT STRONG* structure, that man sure could eat) and was in constant pain. The fact that we could visibly see him doubled over in pain, holding his stomach in his hands was proof enough to us that this was something serious, as dad was a man that wouldn't even take a tylenol after breaking his arm. Dad was literally the last person to ever complain about anything...other than bad coffee of course.
Around late October of last year he finally decided to visit a doctor again, which is when they scheduled him to have an esophegal biopsy. On December 7th we found out that dad had esophegal cancer - specifically that he had cancerous esophageal polyps, which weren't allowing solid foods to pass through to his stomach.
These little polyps became a huge issue for dad in the following weeks after. His once adventurous ever-changing diet of exciting solid foods now had to be cut down to crushed vitamins, pudding cups, consume and THOSE GOD AWFUL ENSURE PROTEIN SHAKES *thank you for always drinking them no matter how much we knew you hated them dad*. He couldn't even try the exciting flavours of any of those either, as they would irritate his stomach too much, and he would throw up *because of the polyps these episodes would usually end in him vomiting blood so we were all understandably too nervous to try new things*. Though we tried sneaking in extra protein and fats - really anything to give him more strength - he was extremely weak. and though none of us wanted to admit it, we all knew there had to be something else going on inside. Throughout the rest of December, dad had many scans done, and we were supposed to be told by January 7th that they would have the entire picture on what exactly was going on within papa, and what moves needed to be made.
January 7th of this year, 2021, dad got the news that his cancer, that we had JUST even found out he had in the first place, had spread to all of his vital organs. And horribly enough, we were told that he only had a few months to live. I honestly am at a loss for words as I type this, and I keep deleting and rewriting what i've already put because it is all just still unbelievable to me. My best friend held my hands and told me that he only had a few months left to live within this beautiful life, a life that I know as my dad.
None of us knew how to process that information, nor begin to even accept it as fact in the first place. A couple of days went by and the house was quiet. I wanted to know everything, I had written up lists upon lists of questions I wanted to ask dad before I ever had to say goodbye, and I had so many stories partially written out so that he could finish them. But I was so heartbroken, it was hard to go into his room. I needed time. We all just needed time. I was scared to see him in case I would break down, which I knew I would do...and because he was always so very strong ~ I didn’t want to show him any weakness. But sadly I held out too long, January 9th, on my parents 50th wedding anniversary, I woke up to get ready for work and heard dad shuffle to the bathroom for an episode. Each one sounded progressively worse and worse. I went and made him soup and asked mom if she could spoon feed it to him slowly because he needed to eat and I couldn't go to work knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep food down for another day. Within a minute of her going into his room he, again, made the trek back to the washroom, this time worse than I've ever heard. I let him finish and then quietly asked him if he could please go to the hospital because they could do a lot more for him there than we could here. I told him he needed to be big and strong if he was going to be able to handle trying chemotherapy and that today was not the day to be stubborn, and to just please take the help they could offer. He nodded his head slowly and said "you're right, I really do need to go." I stood over him holding and hugging his head as gently as I could and just kept repeating thank you, and how much I loved him. He hugged me gently back and told me he loved me too. I said, "I have to go to work but I love you and I will come see you right when i'm done". He was sad, I guess I hadn't told him I had to work that day, as I had taken a few weeks off due to the news. We hugged again and I kissed his warm head. A moment I will forever remember as long as my soul exists, as that was the last time I was able to have a conscious, in real life conversation with my forever person.
Our family took him to the hospital right after, and I went to work. After I was finished work I called mom, who told me he would be staying in the hospital for the next few days...as he would be going under a procedure to have an esophageal stent put in *which would hopefully allow him to eat solid foods! EXCITING!*. I wanted to come see him, we all did, but mom reluctantly had to tell us that because of Covid-19 they would only allow only one person, the same designated person, to come see him each day, which of course she needed to be her. News that will forever haunt me. All I wanted to do was come talk to him and ask him the million questions I had written down + in my mind, and just to see his smile. I didn't care if they had to shave every hair off of my entire body and wear a hazmat suit, I just wanted to see my dad.
A few days passed, his esophageal stent was put in perfectly and dad, other than having a raspier voice than usual, was doing as fine as could be. A day or so after, on the 16th - my dad called me. I have our exact conversation saved in my notes, he said, "Hi Tawa" *my favourite nickname ever, other than TJ* and let me know that he would be going under for another procedure *a liver stent* that night and that he would be out of commission for a few days. I asked if anyone should bother him during that time, to which he responded, "i'd rather them not"...with a smile on his face...
I could distictively hear it.
I said "I love you" and he said "I love you more", to which I replied "impossible.", the usual. He laughed, and we said goodbye.
That was the last time I was allowed to hear my dad speak.
If Covid wasn't a thing, I could have been there to ask what kind of risks were at stake going through with this procedure. But we didn't know. I didn't even know there were any risks at all. He went through the procedure that night. Sadly his liver was too infected, and opening whatever wound they did caused a severe blood infection within his beautiful strong body. One that he was too weak to wake up from.
My mom went to the hospital first thing on the 17th, not knowing how dad was doing. I called later that morning to ask how he was, she handed the phone to him to talk to me, but he couldn't hold it. That's when I knew I had to call and ask if we could all come in and see how he was, which is what we did. None of us knew what we would be walking into, and I don't think to this day we could, nor can, ever process the image of it.
The hospital was grateful enough to let 2 of us lay with him every single night. One of which I spent alone with him, one that I will always hold so dear within my memory. Until the very end *and forever past that*, he had his family with him. The last night he spent with us we all took turns telling stories about the ridiculous things he let us get away with. The stories lasted until 8pm...when everyone had to leave, except the two of us, Andrew and I. Mom gave him a little breath of air, kissed him on the lips, and he stopped breathing. We all held his face, and we all repeated how much we loved him. I pulled down his gown right below his armpit, to the bones that held his heart between mine, and I grasped him with every piece of life I had *and have* to offer. After a minute or so, that's when he gave his last breath of fresh air. At 8:10pm on January 20th, 2021, dad said his goodbye. But it's not a forever goodbye, it's just one within this timeline that we have forever known as home.
As many as you have already seen, i've tried writing down my feelings about dad and how much he truly meant to me over Facebook *as it's the one platform both he and I shared so much with each other on...I loved showing you off pops*, but no words could ever truly even begin to explain how much I loved him. It has been very hard for me to even put up this page...because each step we take moving forward is just another reminder that it is real.
With him being the man of the house and passing so suddenly - we are left stunned, shocked, and unsure how to afford and continue on in the house we've made a home. Especially our mum. Through all the years of us kids moving away, creating families, coming back, bringing dogs, getting married, being the classic pains in the arse we all are, etc. - they, the two of them, have lived in that house every single day together for nearly the past decade. During these trying times, we cannot and will not allow our mother to lose the one place they have called home since the tragic loss of our childhood family home.
The last thing I would ever want is for anyone to think that my dad didnt prepare us for such a thing to happen, trust me...he really did try.
But thats a story for another day.
ANYTHING is beyond appreciated during these times. Even just a word or a thought is priceless. With the lack of a life insurance plan and savings, it has been a struggle to keep up with the bills during everything. We're just trying to raise enough money to be able to afford our home for at least half a year while trying to find sustainable incomes (thanks to covid) and grieve in the way that we need to.
All donations will be given to our mama, Edna Joyce. We just want to allow her some safety and security while she and us deal with the loss of such a wonderful, beautiful, and important human being.
We love and appreciate it all.
TJ and family <3
*Edna, Fiona, Aaron, Andrew and I*
For anyone who does not already know the story...our beloved dad passed away very suddenly on January 20th, 2021.
For years now my dad has had stomach ulcers, or at least that's what we were told by doctors. They never bothered him too much, other than how annoying it was for him to take medication every few hours "SUCK IT UP, PRINCESS". However, nearing the end of last year (2020) dads stomach began hurting on a level he had never experienced before. He wasn't able to eat food as he normally did (despite his slender *BUT STRONG* structure, that man sure could eat) and was in constant pain. The fact that we could visibly see him doubled over in pain, holding his stomach in his hands was proof enough to us that this was something serious, as dad was a man that wouldn't even take a tylenol after breaking his arm. Dad was literally the last person to ever complain about anything...other than bad coffee of course.
Around late October of last year he finally decided to visit a doctor again, which is when they scheduled him to have an esophegal biopsy. On December 7th we found out that dad had esophegal cancer - specifically that he had cancerous esophageal polyps, which weren't allowing solid foods to pass through to his stomach.
These little polyps became a huge issue for dad in the following weeks after. His once adventurous ever-changing diet of exciting solid foods now had to be cut down to crushed vitamins, pudding cups, consume and THOSE GOD AWFUL ENSURE PROTEIN SHAKES *thank you for always drinking them no matter how much we knew you hated them dad*. He couldn't even try the exciting flavours of any of those either, as they would irritate his stomach too much, and he would throw up *because of the polyps these episodes would usually end in him vomiting blood so we were all understandably too nervous to try new things*. Though we tried sneaking in extra protein and fats - really anything to give him more strength - he was extremely weak. and though none of us wanted to admit it, we all knew there had to be something else going on inside. Throughout the rest of December, dad had many scans done, and we were supposed to be told by January 7th that they would have the entire picture on what exactly was going on within papa, and what moves needed to be made.
January 7th of this year, 2021, dad got the news that his cancer, that we had JUST even found out he had in the first place, had spread to all of his vital organs. And horribly enough, we were told that he only had a few months to live. I honestly am at a loss for words as I type this, and I keep deleting and rewriting what i've already put because it is all just still unbelievable to me. My best friend held my hands and told me that he only had a few months left to live within this beautiful life, a life that I know as my dad.
None of us knew how to process that information, nor begin to even accept it as fact in the first place. A couple of days went by and the house was quiet. I wanted to know everything, I had written up lists upon lists of questions I wanted to ask dad before I ever had to say goodbye, and I had so many stories partially written out so that he could finish them. But I was so heartbroken, it was hard to go into his room. I needed time. We all just needed time. I was scared to see him in case I would break down, which I knew I would do...and because he was always so very strong ~ I didn’t want to show him any weakness. But sadly I held out too long, January 9th, on my parents 50th wedding anniversary, I woke up to get ready for work and heard dad shuffle to the bathroom for an episode. Each one sounded progressively worse and worse. I went and made him soup and asked mom if she could spoon feed it to him slowly because he needed to eat and I couldn't go to work knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep food down for another day. Within a minute of her going into his room he, again, made the trek back to the washroom, this time worse than I've ever heard. I let him finish and then quietly asked him if he could please go to the hospital because they could do a lot more for him there than we could here. I told him he needed to be big and strong if he was going to be able to handle trying chemotherapy and that today was not the day to be stubborn, and to just please take the help they could offer. He nodded his head slowly and said "you're right, I really do need to go." I stood over him holding and hugging his head as gently as I could and just kept repeating thank you, and how much I loved him. He hugged me gently back and told me he loved me too. I said, "I have to go to work but I love you and I will come see you right when i'm done". He was sad, I guess I hadn't told him I had to work that day, as I had taken a few weeks off due to the news. We hugged again and I kissed his warm head. A moment I will forever remember as long as my soul exists, as that was the last time I was able to have a conscious, in real life conversation with my forever person.
Our family took him to the hospital right after, and I went to work. After I was finished work I called mom, who told me he would be staying in the hospital for the next few days...as he would be going under a procedure to have an esophageal stent put in *which would hopefully allow him to eat solid foods! EXCITING!*. I wanted to come see him, we all did, but mom reluctantly had to tell us that because of Covid-19 they would only allow only one person, the same designated person, to come see him each day, which of course she needed to be her. News that will forever haunt me. All I wanted to do was come talk to him and ask him the million questions I had written down + in my mind, and just to see his smile. I didn't care if they had to shave every hair off of my entire body and wear a hazmat suit, I just wanted to see my dad.
A few days passed, his esophageal stent was put in perfectly and dad, other than having a raspier voice than usual, was doing as fine as could be. A day or so after, on the 16th - my dad called me. I have our exact conversation saved in my notes, he said, "Hi Tawa" *my favourite nickname ever, other than TJ* and let me know that he would be going under for another procedure *a liver stent* that night and that he would be out of commission for a few days. I asked if anyone should bother him during that time, to which he responded, "i'd rather them not"...with a smile on his face...
I could distictively hear it.
I said "I love you" and he said "I love you more", to which I replied "impossible.", the usual. He laughed, and we said goodbye.
That was the last time I was allowed to hear my dad speak.
If Covid wasn't a thing, I could have been there to ask what kind of risks were at stake going through with this procedure. But we didn't know. I didn't even know there were any risks at all. He went through the procedure that night. Sadly his liver was too infected, and opening whatever wound they did caused a severe blood infection within his beautiful strong body. One that he was too weak to wake up from.
My mom went to the hospital first thing on the 17th, not knowing how dad was doing. I called later that morning to ask how he was, she handed the phone to him to talk to me, but he couldn't hold it. That's when I knew I had to call and ask if we could all come in and see how he was, which is what we did. None of us knew what we would be walking into, and I don't think to this day we could, nor can, ever process the image of it.
The hospital was grateful enough to let 2 of us lay with him every single night. One of which I spent alone with him, one that I will always hold so dear within my memory. Until the very end *and forever past that*, he had his family with him. The last night he spent with us we all took turns telling stories about the ridiculous things he let us get away with. The stories lasted until 8pm...when everyone had to leave, except the two of us, Andrew and I. Mom gave him a little breath of air, kissed him on the lips, and he stopped breathing. We all held his face, and we all repeated how much we loved him. I pulled down his gown right below his armpit, to the bones that held his heart between mine, and I grasped him with every piece of life I had *and have* to offer. After a minute or so, that's when he gave his last breath of fresh air. At 8:10pm on January 20th, 2021, dad said his goodbye. But it's not a forever goodbye, it's just one within this timeline that we have forever known as home.
As many as you have already seen, i've tried writing down my feelings about dad and how much he truly meant to me over Facebook *as it's the one platform both he and I shared so much with each other on...I loved showing you off pops*, but no words could ever truly even begin to explain how much I loved him. It has been very hard for me to even put up this page...because each step we take moving forward is just another reminder that it is real.
With him being the man of the house and passing so suddenly - we are left stunned, shocked, and unsure how to afford and continue on in the house we've made a home. Especially our mum. Through all the years of us kids moving away, creating families, coming back, bringing dogs, getting married, being the classic pains in the arse we all are, etc. - they, the two of them, have lived in that house every single day together for nearly the past decade. During these trying times, we cannot and will not allow our mother to lose the one place they have called home since the tragic loss of our childhood family home.
The last thing I would ever want is for anyone to think that my dad didnt prepare us for such a thing to happen, trust me...he really did try.
But thats a story for another day.
ANYTHING is beyond appreciated during these times. Even just a word or a thought is priceless. With the lack of a life insurance plan and savings, it has been a struggle to keep up with the bills during everything. We're just trying to raise enough money to be able to afford our home for at least half a year while trying to find sustainable incomes (thanks to covid) and grieve in the way that we need to.
All donations will be given to our mama, Edna Joyce. We just want to allow her some safety and security while she and us deal with the loss of such a wonderful, beautiful, and important human being.
We love and appreciate it all.
TJ and family <3
*Edna, Fiona, Aaron, Andrew and I*
Co-organizers (3)
Tara Joyce
Organizer
Burnaby, BC
Andrew Joyce
Co-organizer
Fiona Joyce
Co-organizer