Sump Pumps and intimacy


The majority of today I spent with my 84 year old father and his girlfriend.  They helped me install a new sump pump in my cellar.  It has been damp, and then flooded, and it’s a nightmare down there right now, but I digress.

What I wanted to share is about my feelings for my dad.     He is now having memory problems, and he went after this project to HELP ME.   He wasn’t taking no for an answer.   So today I rearranged my schedule and as mentioned above, the majority of today was spent in mud, and trying to block out challenging parts that I will not get into here.    I think my dad would do most anything to help me or my siblings.    My dad is a good man, a kind man.  He worked hard to provide for his family, and today he worked hard to help his daughter with a mess she was in.

I was trying to stay in my humor mode, and trying to stay above the button pushing behavior that was happening as we were working.   Many times I came upstairs, sat on a towel with my filthy muddy smelly jeans, just to get away from it, to try to maintain my cool.  To put into perspective just exactly what they were doing, and that was they were trying to help me.

There was a few times when he and I were alone downstairs.   Now, my dad can do anything, I mean that.  He’s very resourceful and talented, but age is slowing him down and wreaking havoc on him.  It saddens me to see this.    At times when I look at him I have to look away so he doesn’t see the tears that run down my cheeks when I see him struggle, when I think about a time that I may not have him.    My father is a man to be missed.  And my fathers love for me, and cheering squad has helped me through many painful times.   A man of very little words, but an observer, doesn’t miss much, just doesn’t acknowledge what he’s seen or thinks.

One moment later this afternoon, I put my hand on his to steady his hand that was trying to put a screwdriver into a screw that I couldn’t see either.   I looked at my father this afternoon differently.  I looked at his hands, working man hands.    When I saw him struggle, I saw his father in him, with expression and looks, but his mother, who was one of the kindest women I’ve ever met, and who treated me with tremendous love and support, came through.    My father is more like his mother than his father was.  And though he had to have help getting down the stairs, and i held my breath every time he came up them, he was determined to do this for me.   And he succeeded.

I’m more of a writer than a face to face person.  Some have accused me of hiding behind the pen or keyboard.   I don’t believe that to be true.  I just can quickly and clearly say in words via paper or keyboard what is in my heart.   I’m not afraid to love, I’m just afraid I will never find a man who will love me like my dad does.  Who will want for me all that my dad does?

At 56 I know how fortunate I am to still have both of my parents.   And tonight as I was listening to music, making a new playlist for myself, I listened to the John Mayor song “Say what you need to say”.   I hope tomorrow I will be able to tell my dad, face to face, just how much he means to me and how grateful I am for his help.     But if I can’t do that, or don’t get to, I will certainly pen it out in a letter and send it to him.  He’s received many of these from me, and I hope we have time for many more.

Very grateful to have the new pump installed.  Have a lot of work to do in my cellar, but I will get to it, and I will do what needs to be done.   And tonight I’m very grateful to have spent this day with my dad.    I am, afterall, his favorite!  ha!



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