from fist bumps to tepid tears

and farting into the void

I went to see my plumber today

The cartridge in our shower failed this morning and we had to turn the water off at the main.

Why does the plumbing fail and cat get sick on Good Friday when everything is closed?

Hey Jebus, you prick?

Yaman?

You messin’ with me again?

Yaman, whadda you think this easter shit is all about - one minute I’m dead the next minute, SURPRISE -the stones been moved and I’m gone.

Dude, you’re like the houdini of the gods eh?

Where do you think he learned that stuff ya dork?

Righ, Thanks Jebus.

So to celebrate killing his boy, god decided to fuck with me.

A plumbing failure on a day when all of the hardware stores are closed is definitely evidence of an omnipotent god leaning into his arsehole side.

Luckily, I’ve got a buddy who is a plumber.

He was working on a big project in a fancy part of town.

Dude. Do you have a cartridge for a Moen shower?

Yaman, I’ve got one in a truck. Come on over.

I was there in half an hour - brought him some eggs as a way of saying thanks.

I asked him how things have been.

My kid, twelve years old was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes just five weeks ago.

This beautiful bear of a man was tearing up before me.

She sticks herself eight, sometimes eleven times per day. Each time she winces. Each time it hurts her.

He kept going.

But what kills me the most? Knowing that if she didn’t have this medicine, she’d be dead. It wouldn’t take long. I gotta tell ya bud, I’ve been bawling in the shower every morning.

He and I have never hugged.

Until today. I told him about what’s been happening in our house.

My kid too. It’s been six months. Diagnosed in October. This is worse than when Laura had cancer.

With a look we both started crying.

Well enough of that eh?

He handed me the cartridge for the shower.

Go get your water back on.

Thanks bud.

I gave him a fist bump and made my way back home.

The shower was fixed. The water started flowing like our hot tears that afternoon.

But best of all is the comfort of knowing that I’m not just living under a bridge biting the heads off fish and farting into the void all alone.

Nope, not me.

Whether problems with plumbing or parenting, it’s reassuring to know that I’ve got friends in low places.

Despite what they tell ya, we ‘toxic men’ who love fighting in hockey and farting in faces in equal measure, we’re really just big squish gummy bears at our core.

But if you ever bring this up first?

I’ll stip you naked, cover you with honey and duct tape you to an anthill.

So there you go.

You’ve been warned.