(John Martin, The Deluge, 1834)
All this time
The river flowed
Endlessly like a silent tear
– Sting, Soul Cages
In previous posts I have alluded to the Shakespearean-like way in which my father left his corporeal form. The natural world surrounding our family was upended for months beforehand, in true “fair is foul, foul is fair” Macbeth fashion- it was as if the earth itself was shuddering in preparation for his imminent departure. I dedicated one bird-focused post to portents of death (https://idwellinpossibility.ca/?s=portents) leading up to July 29. The scope of this disuption was not limited to the avian kingdom, however; there was so much more. There was a steady drumbeat of ill fortune – relentless layer upon layer of terrible events.
The thread of undoing began in September 2023 and continued throughout the spring and into the events of the hospital. Misfortune struck first in September, when the basement had a severe sewage backup. Hopeful for a simple clog and repair that a plumber could fix, an emergency call a $20,000+ uninsured sewer line sag with hydrovac excavation services.
We were yet another victim of Alberta’s leniency toward home builders who rush in to build homes and rush out, changing their numbered company every year to avoid accountability for shoddy work. I wept for our plum tree beloved by many bird families, our hydrangea, the other perrenials I’d transplanted from my late grandma’s garden. Utter destruction. (A subsequent camera inspection at the end of the massive work revealed another sag and a fractured water pipe at the entrance of the house, but out of funds, we choose to sit on those time bombs for now). From that point on, it was a steady drip, ooze, flow of water (or lack thereof) into the first half of 2024.
The outside tap ceased to work and I lugged water from inside to water front flowers.
The hot water tank failed and needed replacing.
The drain pipe from the air conditioner to basement began dripping.
The shower upstairs ceased to have warm water, leading to over four months of shivering showers.
The kitchen tap began to malfunction and drip.
The toilet apparatus upstairs broke and ceased to work.
The upstairs washroom tap only would run cold water.
The sump pump failed. At the same time the drains filled with leaves from neighbours’ trees and began flooding over.
The replacement sump pump failed to work, needing a service call.
The water sensor refused to work, had several service calls, and remains glitchy.
Even our outdoor hose suddenly and inexplicably blew out.
There was too much water. I was awash in constant uncertainty, crisis, draining. By June I was trying to simply get through the next hurdle, the next task, with weaker spirit, and fewer funds. The ten months brutally wore me out (the animal illness post is also still to come…). And finally, when I was at my absolute weakest, my most exhausted state, crawling on the shores trying to gasp for breath, the worst imaginable crisis I could ever imagine rose up, and in three weeks swept away everything I knew and loved. Absolute, cataclysmic destruction. And now, infinite tears, and infinite sorrow.
***
A couple of weeks following July 29, I found a mouse suspended in water – drowned – in a pail behind me on the deck where I sat grievng (inexplicably, after a summer with little rain and baking heat). I scream-cried and convulsed. I am that drowned mouse.