So. The new house has a few minor plumbing issues that I have no clue how to tackle, and Odysseus isn't comfortable messing with (a busted line to a fridge ice maker/water dispenser, a leaking bathroom drain, a slow leak under the house). Yesterday, I called to get on his schedule.
His daughter answered. She told me he'd passed away the previous Thursday.
I will admit it was hard not to just bust out bawling.
The plumber is one we'd worked with for the past ten years. He was a great guy; once, when he was doing some little bits of work for us, he found a box turtle when he went to leave, and ran up and knocked on the door. Because he wanted to show the kids the turtle.
He went into raptures over a slightly novelty toilet seat we'd put on the hall bathroom toilet: it had a toddler's toilet seat worked into the lid, and he was having trouble getting his little grandson to use anything but a potty chair because the kid was afraid he'd fall in (when he was willing to go anywhere but in his diaper). I told him where we found it, and mentioned that we'd shamelessly used bribery to get the imp potty trained, and would be doing the same for the pixie when it was her turn. He put candy on the list he pulled out of his pocket, right next to the toilet seat.
We had him out to deal with a small frozen pipe issue in January or February. He'd lost a lot of weight, and wasn't smiling like always.
He'd lost his wife the winter before. They'd been together for 38 years, and he was lost. Missed her terribly.
I honestly hadn't thought he'd last out the year, with the way he was pining, but that came quick.
And I'm trying to gather the gumption to look for another plumber, with the full knowledge that the working relationship just won't be there, and likely won't be for a long time, if ever. Not like that.
42 minutes ago