The Queen and the Black Mold

I brought a friend who rebuilds houses professionally over to access my father's house. He basically said the house was a health hazard because of two things: black mold in the basement and the mouse feces. He asked my father if he were willing to move out for a month or two to get the whole place gutted and cleaned out, and he said no.

SO! The reality is that the black mold is winning. I wrote my father a letter saying that I can't continue cleaning or coming over with the kids and that he should really consider moving in with me temporarily to clean the place properly or just permanently moving in with my brother as my father gets older and needs help and really for his own health. Having him spend more time among the black mold is not healthy! it gets into the ventilation!

I was aghast, horrified, a bit depressed. But it seems I've been dealing with the unexpected and the disappointing all my life. So I will just stay present and see what else arises. But I really want my father to be well and rescue him from the Black Mold! I even wrote Julia an email asking her to talk to him. He seems to trust her.

So symbolic that it comes from the basement. Something still very unconscious and insidious that does not want to rear its head but is starting to. Perhaps my father does not want to deal with it because of that reason. That it would bring up war memories and horrors that are still too painful for his fragile self to deal with.

But at least now the Queen knows her enemy the Black Mold, and she will figure out how to deal with it next.