My daughter Emma is coming up to spend the weekend; she says she wants to relieve Maria and help me out. She says it’s clear that I need some help. Emma knows me well, and when I say I’m just about healed, I’m not. She’s coming here this weekend, and I’m looking forward to it. Emma and I are in a perfect place right now; we had rough years during and after my divorce from her mother.

She wants to help and I need to let her help. I can be standoffish and guarded without even knowing it.

After the divorce, as we began talking to one another more openly and regularly (and I apologized for being crazy), she said one of the difficult things about being my daughter was the fact that I never really let anybody in, I didn’t complain about things or ask for help, or let people help when I needed some.

She hated reading things on my blog about my life that she didn’t know. So I fixed that.

I worked on this. I started calling Emma once a week and being honest about what was happening. I promised she would never have to read about my being wick on my blog; she expected to hear it first. I told her I was never going to disappear from her life again. I worked on this issue with Peggy, my therapist; she said I needed to let Emma help me when she wished.

This conversation changed things.

I do not want to be one of those parents who expect their child or children to be caretakers. Emma has her own life to live, and she is living it happily and well. I am not hovering over her, making regular visits to see Robin, or talking to her much about my spate of surgeries and medical dramas.

I did apologize to her for being distant, remote, and self-absorbed during my breakdown years at the first Bedlam Farm. I think she accepted that and respected it. She stopped calling me names, and I stopped running away from my life as a father: a good trade.

I keep her posted in one way or another – text most often – and we have regular phone talks. We also talk a lot through our photographs.

She has become an excellent photographer, and I appreciate sharing that with her. We got over our bumps, and our conversations were straightforward and honest. We both hate drama.

But when she said she wanted to come up here to help, I took it seriously and said sure, rather than think it was too much trouble for her to come up here and I didn’t need much help.

Instead, I just said yes, come on up; there are many ways you can help me right now. She loves to feed Zip in the barn; she sits for hours with Flo, and Maria can get more time in her studio if she wants. I am learning to acknowledge my vulnerability and celebrate my strength simultaneously.

I need help right now, and I will let Emma help me. This is what she wants, and I think it’s something we both need.

I’ve learned that to be loved, I have to be open to it, and permit people to love and help me. I trust Emma and respect her; she is honest and caring. I don’t want Emma to see me as a worn-out older man. But I am also learning to accept who I am

She wants to cook dinner for us, so that will be fine.

And she can sit with me when Maria works or tends to her own life. Emma’s staying through Monday. We might all watch a movie on Sunday; I’ll take it easy. I think it’s my first time alone with Emma in years.

She knows I must rest frequently, but I’m not worried about her coming. With the loss of my sister in my life, Maria is the only one in my biological family that I still have in my life.

I cherish that, but like Maria, I’ve also worked to build a new family around me. That is a great gift to me. The photo above is Zip on Chipmunk Patrol. No luck so far, but I have the feeling he’ll get there.