When I was 19, my dad officially told my sister and me that he had this blood disease called myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS), which is also known as pre-leukemia. The biggest thing that he struggled with was his blood clotting easily. My dad explained that it meant that it was harder for him to breathe when he would exercise, or even when it was something simple like walking up the stairs. When I first heard about this from my dad, the biggest question I asked was how serious is this? I could not fathom that he was going to die, so I think I ignored his illness for a while. I also told some friends about it immediately, and they kind of just ignored it. I took that to mean that maybe it wasn’t a big deal. But later, that moment would come to haunt me as a reason to not tell new friends I had made in college.

In 2014, it became more and more apparent that my dad was getting weaker. He was a very strong man, and although skinny for his age, he was getting thinner. I could see bruises on his legs from the blood clots that he would get. In 2015, he was starting to get ready for this big blood transfusion later that year, which would require his older sister to come from Japan to donate her blood to him. He started wearing a mask all the time, which is a Japanese thing to do, where they wear a hospital mask for fear of catching a cold or to use when you have a cough. He had to stay as healthy as possible. When I was away at school, and I didn’t get to see these things happening in front of me. But I would see my dad changing in dramatic glimpses, and it felt scary. I had a rocky relationship with my dad where he pushed a lot of responsibility on me as the eldest daughter, and I felt like we were finally getting to a place where we were talking about school, movies and life, in general.

As an eternal optimist, I felt that we were going to get through this. My dad was and still is the strongest man I know, mentally and physically. He made my mom, my sister and I go to a class at the hospital where someone explained what the blood transfusion entailed, and we got to meet his primary doctor. This showed me that he was fighting for his life, and that we were all involved in this process.

I tried to show support in any way that I could from far away. For example, I chatted with him in our family group chat on an app called LINE. I had studied abroad in London my second semester of my junior year (Spring 2015), and my family was able to visit me. That made me extraordinarily happy because I felt like I was able to give them a gift by taking this opportunity at IC. My parents, although well-travelled, had never been to Europe before. My dad, who loved Sherlock Holmes, was able to take a photo wearing the Holmes hat with a pipe in his mouth. Seeing that wonder in their faces as they explored a new city made me feel so grateful. Now, it is a memory that I look back upon as one of the happiest times of my life.

When I got back from London in May of 2015, the blood transfusion happened almost immediately. My dad was able to get through the transfusion successfully, and recovered at home while my sister and I were away at camp, working. Then, in August, our penultimate week at camp, we heard from my mom that my dad had to go back to the hospital. His stomach was hurting so much, and we could tell that something was wrong. (He was dealing with Graft versus Host Disease.) I could hear the clock ticking in my head, because I was growing more and more afraid that there was not enough time. He spent two months in a hospital bed before his eventual death, and my sister and I travelled back home a lot more often. I think about the $540 we spent on round-trip bus tickets, but the time that I got to spend with my family right before my dad’s death made it all worth it.

I also realized that I had to tell people. It was my senior year, and a lot of my friends wanted to hang out, or understandably, go out more often. I had to explain where I was going on the weekends. Before that, only one friend from college had known. I didn’t really get to sit down and talk to them about it, because honestly, my mind was elsewhere and we all have busy lives. I also really wanted to be alone. I still do like to be alone with my sadness. Since my dad’s death in October of 2015, I have also learned that opening up, although challenging, has helped enormously. It helps me to feel that I am valid in feeling the way that I do, and that I don’t have to pretend to be “okay” or “good” when I am actually not. It also made me sad that I had been afraid of opening up to them. After sharing what had happened, I have gotten so many messages from past friends, old friends, new friends and friends who feel like family. There were some messages that I did not really care for, since I felt like they were only reaching out because they felt like they had to, or because something terrible had happened to me. I think there are times now when it’s hard for people to deal with my grief or find words to say. There are none, really. There were caring messages, too. It made me feel loved. It still does. Sometimes, when I feel alone, I will look back on some of the more important messages and realize that I do have friends that are there for me.

I have learned that I need to be more open about what is going on. I tend to drown in my sorrows, so being honest about how I feel makes me more motivated to keep going with school, and life. The motivation has also transferred onto my future plans after graduation. My dad’s death has caused me to really reevaluate what I want to do. My mom said that she thinks my dad died happy with his life. He got to fulfill his dream of coming to New York and living in Manhattan and then later, Brooklyn. He was a professional photographer and worked on documentary films for twenty years of his life. It makes me wonder about my own passions and dreams. Having been so focused on the process of getting to college, and trying to succeed in my classes throughout all this has put my passions and dreams in a black hole. I’m suddenly realizing, I have no idea what I want.

I can’t help but compare myself to my friends who are already making future plans after graduation. It also is unfair to try to prove myself and immediately get a job in my major or go straight to graduate school. I’m just not there yet. After spiraling down for so long, I want to reach a state of equanimity. I will always deal with my grief, and although I still have a hard time accepting it, I think I need to stay still for a while.

In memory of Tatsuhiko Iwasaki

1961-2015