A Dusty Basement

He’s gone.

That shocking statement has not yet fully registered in the hearts of the few people shuffling around the basement trying to organize boxes full of papers, cluttered tool benches, and an endless supply of knick-knacks.

The funeral was only days ago, everybody is raw and nervous about what they might find in the messy basement. Memories both good and bad trigger as old pictures are found. Dusty relics are brought back into the light to be viewed one last time before being unceremoniously dumped in the garbage.

It all happened so fast. Two months ago it was just a stomach ache and mild discomfort. But then the cancer started ripping through his body. Our wedding was hastily moved up by almost 8 months and even so he barely made the day. He was named Al. He was the father of the bride. He danced with his daughter on her wedding day, giving her the last of his strength.

We planned our wedding in two days and Al was my father-in-law for two days.

The world has a crazy kind of symmetry to it. Or perhaps we merely look for symmetry as we try to understand our circumstances. Puzzling together our lives, hoping that things will make sense one day.

The searchers in the basement didn’t know what to look for. Maybe an old note on a scrap of paper or a tiny knick-knack could somehow bring him back or create closure in this whole mess. Instead, they discovered empty bank accounts and unkept promises.

A silent hope echoed through the group. Maybe we had missed something, a ledger? If we could just find a little black book listing some bank accounts explaining how so much money had vanished.

In a quiet moment I sat on a couch between two dusty boxes, one full of old video games and the other an excessive amount of water bottles. My tired red eyes closed for just a moment.

The house cat had other plans. She landed on my lap and I awoke with a start. Strange that she would get this close. She hasn’t really gotten comfortable around me yet. Well, better get back to work.

“Dad, how could you have left such a mess? Maybe if the cancer hadn’t spread so quickly you could have organized more. It just doesn’t make any sense. Why does the world have to be so cruel? Why couldn’t I have the chance to get to know my new father-in-law?”

Tears crept down my face and questions swirled in my mind as I tackled the next pile of boxes and a rack of worn-out coats, probably older than me.

Coat after coat passed through my listless fingers. Each one older than the last. “Nothing to find here,” I thought to myself. “I Might as well get rid of these. No one will be using them anymore.” Even in life their owner had abandoned them long ago.

I got to the last coat on the rack and felt like giving up. What’s the point in all this anyways? My heart says it’s not possible, but I know he’s gone.

Suddenly my hand felt something hard in the coat pocket, not the usual old tissues. With trembling hands I unhooked the coat and brought it out to take a better look. The front right pocket zipper was broken, holding the mysterious treasure captive. As carefully as I could I pried it open, glimpsing a hard black corner inside. My patience evaporated and I ripped the zipper open and revealed a small, beat up black notebook.

Could this be what we’ve all secretly been searching for? Could this be the answer to some of our prayers?

Impossible!

It can’t be, there’s no way.

I’ve actually found it.

Opening up the book was the scariest thing I did all day. Leave it closed and you cannot be disappointed but the price you pay is being forever left in the dark; always wondering.

The worn cover felt warm to the touch. The edges were frayed and coarse under my fingertips and as I turned the book in my hands, flakes cracked off and fell to the ground.

This is the moment of truth. I removed the worn-out elastic which protected unknown secrets and held my breath, as I opened the book. By this time I had garnered the attention of my brother-in-law and grandfather who were working nearby. They peered over my shoulder as out of the book tumbled two wads of cash and an envelope. Falling to the ground in slow motion our eyes tracked their progress downward, but our bodies stood motionless. Too shocked to even try catching them, before they landed with a small thud.

We stared in silence, for what seemed like an eternity. The other two each reached out a trembling hand to clutch the tender forms of the bundled-up money. I stretched out my hand and grasped the envelope. There was a letter inside, and scratched in shaky handwriting were Al’s words:

“Dear Children,

I am so sorry for all the hurt that I have caused. I’m sorry I’m no longer around to give you everything you deserve. I’m sorry for all of my mistakes. I love you both so much, and I hope you will forgive me. This is for the two of you as I promised. I wanted to give it to you in person, but if you’re reading this I guess I wasn’t able to. I hope it helps in some way.

I love you, and I’m proud of you,

Dad”

I landed heavily back on the couch, once again disturbing the dust that had settled there. The moats of particles in the air catching in the incandescent light, marking one last glorious moment in a father’s legacy.

Grandpa spoke up, “Looks like there’s ten thousand dollars here!” The shock in his voice was obvious as he looked over to his grandson holding an identical package, who nodded in silent agreement judging his own small bundle of wealth.

“What?”, I heard my wife exclaim, followed quickly by rushed footsteps. Eyes that had seen far too much sorrow in the past week, looked on in confusion glancing quickly back and forth from one bundle to the next. Her eyes did not stop moving until she noticed the letter in my hand. The money forgotten, she stumbled forward and reached out a trembling hand for the last words her father had written her.

She sat heavily on the floor and began to read. Tears streamed down her face as she read Al’s last words. The money didn’t matter anymore. The mistakes didn’t matter either. All she wanted was the love of her father; to know he was proud of her.

I wish I could say the whole family was together in that moment. In a way, we were.

As I sat on the couch the cat came once again wandering into the room, maybe the breaking of tension gave her the courage to see what was going on. She rubbed her head against my wife’s legs and jumped up onto my lap.

Then I awoke.

Shuffling forms still busied themselves around the basement, everyone too caught up in their own heads to notice I had fallen asleep. The only one that seemed to care was the cat nestling onto my lap. Could it really be there? One last message from dad?

Gently I slid the cat from my lap and with my heart pounding I headed to the corner of the basement to check on some old winter coats. My palms were slippery with sweat as I neared the last coat on the rack. Entering once again into that moment of truth. And there it was, the pocket with the broken zipper.

But nothing was inside.