The box where I found my father, continued~

Earlier this summer, I was busy cleaning out the garage at my home in Valley Center as I prepared to make the move back to my home here in Hutchinson.  I was nearly done when I noticed an old upright "strong" box that had belonged to my father during his custom cutting days.  It was old and dusty mostly because I'd avoided opening it up for fear that the memories inside of it could harm me.  I remember thinking that surely whatever was inside of it couldn't be that bad and that maybe the warm summer evening in Sedgwick County would be as  good a night as any to open "the box".  

So with my son Grahame helping me, we lifted the lid and began to pour over all of the documents inside of it.  The most miraculous thing was this~rather than it being the dreaded thing that I always thought it would be, it ended up being quite the opposite.  In effect, it was like introducing my 23-year old son to the grandfather he never knew.  We made a memory that night, Grahame and  I.  He was home for a brief visit this weekend and had to get back home to Tucson before I had the chance to come across this one last glimpse of his grandfather's life.

I'm kind of on a cleaning spree here, especially where the backyard and shed are concerned.  In my efforts to make the backyard area more user friendly, I've gotten rid of several things inside the garage.  Several boxes that have been stowed away in the corners have been gone through and most of it pitched in the trash.  But as I was finishing up the last little bit earlier this afternoon, I spied it.  Something dark and rectangular, my father's billfold.  I knew that it had been in the box all that time, not a secret to me.  But I could never bring myself to open it up that is until today for some strange reason.  And as I sat there looking at what was inside I remembered a man that I called "daddy" and I cried then and I am having a heck of a time not doing so now.

The contents inside were pretty much "my dad"~his Farm Bureau membership card, his very last driver's license that was issued at the same age his daughter is right now, a Blue Cross/Blue Shield card that got one heck of a work out his last 18 months of life, the receipt for the home that he and mom purchased after the house fire in '76, his fishing license and the registration for one of the very last pickup trucks that he ever owned, a 1974 Ford.  

And then there were the pictures.  Christopher Scott, if you are reading this then I want you to know that I found the cutest little photo of you tucked into the front and right behind it, your cousin Brandy St. Clair not much older than 2 or 3.  Then there was my little Ricky in a couple of them, cute as can be but what do I know, I'm only the "mom".  :)  Sherry and Wes, with Brandy and little baby Mandy, I found you guys too.  And then, oh my goodness, at the back I found myself.  It was one of those "school" photos from my first year or two of being a teacher.  Wow, we were ALL young then.

Come this December 11th, my dad will have been gone for 30 years.  Lung cancer took him from us just a few weeks before his 60th birthday.  Honestly I thought we had dealt with going through most of his belongings so very many years ago now.  But it seems as though that's not the case and ironic (why not cause that's my middle name these days) that I always find something of his on the days that I need to the most.  That was the case today.  And even though I've sobbed like a baby during the entire time I've typed this blog post, I don't think it's a bad thing in and of itself.  Sometimes it's JUST what you need to do.  

As a 27-year old young mother and wife, I never dreamt that I would lose the man in my life who had guided me along a lot of bumpy roads and when my mom passed away 5 years ago, I became an orphan who really hadn't finished growing up yet.  We certainly cannot bring them back and would never want to but it doesn't mean that we don't miss them, even many years after they have been gone.  I love my father and mother and always will and I think they know that, even still.

How about you?  Ever have experiences like these?  One of the toughest things I can imagine having to do is to clean out a parent's home either upon their entering a long-term care facility or their passing from this earth.   I know many of you reading this feel the very same way.  Some of you lost your parents at a much earlier time in life than I did.  And if not a parent, then someone else who is just as close.  I'm glad for memories and actually glad for the strength it takes to sometimes face them.  I figure you best embrace them~we only think some of them can hurt us.   

Have a good evening family and friends!  I love each of you and thank you that you would be my friend in this life.  I felt really sad when I started to type this but now, I feel the load to be a little bit lighter.  I believe He has a hand in that.  

"Frozen in time" today, just like his memory is to me-the photos I found in his wallet.  My first-born son Ricky Miller (upper left and the kid in the KC Royals T-shirt on the bottom) and my nephew, Christopher Scott (upper right)

My sister, Sherry St. Clair and her husband Wes with little baby Mandy and big sister Brandy.  Sherry in one of her school photos and little Brandy Lee at about age 3.

And me....  back when I got curly hair out of a bottle of perm solution :)  

And him...John Scott, Jr., the finest man and father that I ever knew, without exception.