URI: 

       i----------------------------------------
       iMortality
       iFebruary 27th, 2018
       i----------------------------------------
       i
       iMy phone rings. Mom's face stares up at me. I hesitate.
       i
       iDad's been sick, the kind you don't get better from. It's too soon
       ifor this to be the call, right? 
       i
       iI breathe.
       i
       i"Hello?" I cringe.
       i
       i"Hey." It's my dad's voice. Why is it dad's voice? He hasn't
       icalled in a year. Mom makes the calls and he jumps on the line. Is
       imom okay? What are we going to do if mom goes first?
       i
       i"Hey there. What's going on?" Don't say it...
       i
       iHe struggles to get his voice to go. It's not quite a wheeze or
       ia cough, more like priming an engine. A few false starts, pulls at
       ithat motor, and finally he gets it.
       i
       i"Can't get anything to load on Google. TurboTax deal expires
       itomorrow."
       i
       iComputer trouble, thank God. I used to dread these calls from my
       iparents when I was younger. Glorified tech support for the family.
       iNow it's a relief. It's a chance to talk with him, to have
       ia subject that isn't the illness, or politics where there is no
       imiddle ground. It's something I can help him with. He'll take
       ipride in my knowing the answer.
       i
       i"Do you have Teamviewer installed still?"
       i
       iSilence on the line. Is he there? I think I can hear him still,
       ibut he's not answering. He did this when I was young and he was
       iannoyed with explaining things ad naseum. He'd remain silent and
       iwork on something and let me watch, figure it out myself. Is this
       ithat? Is he silent on purpose?
       i
       i"Dad, you there?"
       i
       i"Yeh," it's almost a word, almost a cough. He can hear me, but
       ihe's not answering. The sickness?
       i
       i"Do you still have that program I installed last time I was there?
       iThe one that lets me control your machine and see what you see?"
       i
       iSilence.
       i
       iPatience. This, this is the good stuff left to us. I tell myself
       inot to get frustrated, not to get angry. Don't waste it.
       i
       iWe go back and forth like that until I'm miles past where
       iI thought my fuse would end. It is frustrating, but I'm not
       iletting myself be frustrated.
       i
       iMom can help, I think. She can interpret what he's doing, give it
       ivoice. If I can just see what he's looking at--
       i
       iI text mom:
       i
       i  Is dad working on the computer? He's not saying anything when
       i  I ask questions?
       i
       iA moment later she's over dad's shoulder reading him my text.
       iCringe. Well, maybe he'll answer.
       i
       i"I'm here." he says, and I wish it were true.