We figured: Stamp stuff. Or maybe some 45 rpm records.
They were going to open it and see what was inside.
Anyway, I've been kind of sick as a dog, so I told them to go ahead because, well, sick.
They opened it.
They found cards. Father's day cards, birthday cards, some Christmas cards. Just about every card we ever gave my dad.
There were doodles my brother and I drew when we were kids. Movie ticket stubs (not all of them, but there doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason behind which ticket stubs were kept). Ticket stubs to plays we went to as a family. Baseball game ticket stubs. Programs from plays my brother was in. A couple of love letters my mother wrote to my dad when he was out of town on an extended training program one time. The MBTA pass and matching schedule for the day I graduated from college in Boston.
For some bizarre reason, a 1991 TVGuide where Star Trek was featured on the cover.
Bits and pieces of family life going back years that are puzzling as they are odd because none of us can figure out the rhyme or reason why these particular things were kept.
None of us even knew he kept all of this. That box was out in the open for years. I remember even seeing it. None of us ever wondered what was in it. None of us ever asked about it.
And yet, that's where my dad squirreled away all this stuff. My mother had never even seen him open that box. Not once in all the years they were married.
And we only just found it. Well, we didn't find it. It was there all along under our noses. We just never noticed it.
Christ. And now I'm crying again.
I thought I was okay with my dad dying. I guess not yet.
This entry was originally posted at http://liz-marcs.dreamwidth.org/438