Fathers everywhere stepped up on my particular day of celebration, even if they weren’t my own. And what a day it was!
Let’s just say that the weekend was a flurry of crazy events, most unplanned, some welcome, others not so much. It was so nutty, I find myself writing my blog, long overdue, at this late hour, while waiting for an emergency plumbing service to arrive.
Let me tell you ….
Father’s Day is meant to be a lovely, relaxing day spent celebrating that special man who helped to bring us into this world. It’s a beautiful sentiment. Fathers are pretty cool. They don’t just create you and raise you, they are people who perform multitudes of tasks. I was thinking about that this morning, while I sipped a delicious coffee at my brother’s cottage. His wife and children and I were chilling out, enjoying the morning while my brother crawled underneath his cottage to reroute the plumbing. Plumbing was to be a theme of this day. Take note!
He good naturedly worked out what had to be done with this and that pipe with zero attitude. Just crawling under the cottage would make my skin crawl, I am that claustrophobic. Nearly an hour later he re-emerged from the bowels of the place (it’s a good plumbing reference!), and sat down to his now cold coffee, smiling! He has a great attitude. He gets that from his father (and mine).
While considering what we might do, on this glorious day, it soon became clear that the weather was going to send us a flood of rain. Some of us received weather alerts for a tornado. WTF! In short order we packed, battened down the hatches and jumped in the boat to head for shore. No point testing our luck in that weather.
Father’s Day celebrations cut short, my brother and his family headed home for Ottawa and a family dinner while I headed west for what was sure to be a traffic heavy drive home. I flipped on the radio and tuned in to one of my dad’s favorite songs by Glenn Miller, In the Mood. I was humming along, thinking about how much fun it was to watch my father swing my mother around the room, dancing to that iconic post war music. There was so much joy in it. My father was a joyful person. He enjoyed simple things and always maintained a positive attitude no matter what was thrown his way.
My phone buzzed, interrupting my dad memories. There had been torrential rains in the Caledon area. I needed to get home to deal with a flood of water in my basement thanks to a faulty sump pump. Driving home, all I could think about was what I would face once I got there. And that there would one unholy mess to clean up.
While en route home I called the plumber to help with my shitty problems. When I arrived, there he was and I had a clear thought that, here was a father, who on his one and only day to celebrate, he was at my house helping me. And on it went. Then there were the other fellows who arrived to deal with the water damage. They were young dads. And I was grateful to them all for showing up to help me despite Dad’s Day.
But dads are dads every day. There is never just one day for them but many, and I am grateful to all of you who helped me today and who have helped me over the course of time. The kindnesses of you who stood by me, held my hand, gave me a shoulder when I needed one and did all the crummy “man” jobs that I couldn’t, is immeasurable and enormous. Thank you doesn’t seem enough but thank you I give you.
It is late. Time to rest for another day. Big love to you all, fathers, brothers, uncles, grandfathers, stepdads and father figures of all kinds. Big love this day and every day. Because you’re worth it.
Love to you,
Tosca
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