How could I forget the treasures tucked away in the Secret Drawer of my antique chest? Every time I command the drawer to open, I’m greeted with delight and surprise and remembrance.
Today my father spoke to me from beyond the grave.
The chest is closer to its 200th birthday than the century mark, and from my youngest childhood memories, it was a mustard yellow; when I was newly wed, it was painted blue; and when we made the wise decision to have it stripped and refinished, we discovered that its first coat was white.
It’s a beautiful piece and I can’t imagine why anyone would think it looks better painted. Constructed with curly maple (according to family legend, I honestly don’t know what the wood is), two of the four drawers are accented with intricate carvings surrounding their skeleton key holes.
Make that two of the five drawers–the fifth is undetectable to the untrained or uninformed eye.
After an unplanned bout of Winter cleaning, I rounded up a few items that needed to be stored in a safe place. The Secret Drawer comes to mind only when I need it; much like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts.
With treasures in one hand, I opened the drawer with the other. Immediately my eyes were drawn to an envelope wrinkled and yellowed with age, the handwriting instantly recognizable: my father’s.
A 13-cent stamp punctuated the upper right-hand corner; the post-marked date, June 20, 1977. I was 14, the same age as my middle son. Daddy would have been mid-40s, the age I am now.
Slowly, I sat down, and even more slowly, I unfolded the time-worn letter, written on what was once white legal pad paper.
It was dated 1/19/77 and at first I was confused; the postmark said June, not January, but as I read it, I realized it was just a mistake. That made me smile.
This letter, written to me while I was at camp for a month, was upbeat and chatty, two words I would never have used to describe Daddy.
He talked about losing at tennis (I had forgotten he played) and he thanked me for his Father’s Day gift that year (TV trays). He said it was almost too quiet “without all you monsters around” (another smile…he always called us monsters). He was hopeful I was enjoying camp and making lots of new friends.
He chatted about looking at station wagons but not finding the right one (we ended up with a Vista Cruiser right before school started back that summer). He told me he cooked hamburgers that were “so bad [he] couldn’t eat them”.
And he told me he missed me…
“…probably more than I think.”
And today, realizing just now that it’s almost the two-year anniversary of his death, with unexpected tears clouding my vision…
I could tell him the very same thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{p.s. Stop what you’re doing right now and write your parents or your kids or someone you love. Don’t email, don’t type it, hand write it and mail it. Now. Someone will thank you in 30 years or so.}
This is lovely. And you are right — those handwritten letters are priceless. I dug some out a week ago when I couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night, and spent an enjoyable half hour reading in the privacy of the bathroom (where the light wouldn’t bother anyone else in my house who WAS sleeping). They are soo worth writing. And saving.
Lovely post, Robin. It’s so important that we not take our loved ones for granted and that they know how much we love them. Thanks for sharing.
Robin,
The timing of this post is really something; today is the 4 yr. anniversary of my father’s death. I spent the morning alternating between tears and smiles as I remembered him. It’s lovely for you to have that letter, that proof that he existed and loved you. I still have a bank statement that my father mailed to me in college and his note on it reads, “Good luck on your new job. You’ll do fine, I’m not worried.” I keep those words with me at each new stage of my life now… hoping that he’s someone watching over me, making sure that I’ll do fine.
I’m sorry for your loss but I’m so glad you found that letter!
As technology continues to advance, I see no replacement for the ability of a handwritten letter to bring you back to a moment.
Thanks for sharing this!
Seth
Thank you, Robin. A beautiful reminder – and what a precious memory! Thank you for sharing.
This is beautiful!
I never thought about handwritten letters like that but I think I will begin to write more to others considering this.
I too have one that I cherish from my dad before he passed (almost 4 yrs). It’s in my bible and it literally was the last thing he ever wrote while still living. It’s a sweet reminder and always makes me remember with sadness and joy.
This is one of those posts that reminds me to treasure the moments I have with my parents. I’m very close to my Dad too. Last year he went through surgery for prostate cancer, then radiation and thankfully he’s clear now. But I know that day will come when he won’t be around when I need to talk to him…at 6 a.m. (our conversation time).
Thank you so much for sharing this – I’m sorry for your loss but he seems to have been a wonderful Dad. So glad you found the secret drawer.
Hugs to you. I’m also coming up on the 2 yr anni of my dad’s death (March). I miss him so much.
MommyTime, Wanna hear something crazy? My mom died (breast cancer) when I was in the third grade and the only thing I have in her handwriting is my report card(s). I treasure her signature. So glad for YOU you have some handwritten special notes :).
Dianne, when I part company with just about anyone I’m close to, my last words are “I love you.” What if those WERE my last words, ya know?
Andrea, how precious! I have a short scribbled note from Daddy that’s similar (& more recent than the letter I wrote about in this post). I hold on to his sentiment in that the same way you do (and I’m sorry for your still-recent kinda loss…my sympathies on this anniversary).
Seth, email just isn’t the same, is it?
Susan, somehow I think you “know” to do this kind of thing for your babies. And your parents.
Andrea, that IS a treasure! Isn’t it amazing the power something like that has in your life??
Sharon, that you have a special time set aside for y’all to just talk is so…very….SPECIAL. You sound like you’re savoring those conversations–I know you’ll remember them throughout your life.
I tell ya, y’all are blessin’ my socks off! 🙂
xo ~ Robin
What a beautiful post, Robin! I just got the book “Letters from Dad” for my hubby for Christmas, hoping he’ll be inspired to write some things for our daughter & baby-on-the-way.
This is beautiful.
Thank you for sharing it.
Robin – my father passed away in 1990, but I can still hear his voice, see his smile and feel his hug like it was yesterday. When I look back on cards he signed and notes he wrote his handwriting speaks to me in volumes. He did not have the chance to meet his grandchildren, and I did not get the chance to tell him that now, as a parent, I understand so much of what he did, and why he did it! 🙂
very few of us had the foresight to save those things. I do have a hand written note in a cook book from my mom. I always stop and touch it with my fingers. Why I do that, I don’t know.
OH Robin, what a treasure. Both the chest and that wonderful letter. Such a a blessing.
Robin, that is absolutely beautiful.
Robin, what a poignant post.
What a wonderful treasure.
What a beautiful recounting of what must have been a beautiful experience for you. Thank you so much for the reminder about making that connection.
I found you today from Shannon @ Rocks in My Dryer. Thank you for nudging us all to write our loved ones. One of my New Year’s ‘hopefuls’ (I hate resolutions) is to hand write friends and family more often. This was just the affirmation I needed…
Robin ~ Beautifully written. And very timely for us, as we just got through the first holiday season without my FIL and also my close friend.
Beautiful. I am all about hand written letters for this very reason.
Seems our Father God wanted to give you something special today.
Love this, Robin. I have kept a handwritten journal for each of my daughters since the day they were born. I had lofty ideas of writing to them once a month throughout their lives, but it has turned into more like once a year. But still, they have a LOT of my handwriting to read one day.
I’m glad you shared this.
This is a wonderful post. For so many reasons. Don’t we all need our several coats of paint removed before we can find the hidden treasure outside, and perhaps, the one inside? It made me think.
Less importantly, curly maple is my favorite wood. I dream of guitars made with it. A close second is flame maple, followed in short order by Walnut. The grain of good walnut is impeccable, and so dense…
What a beautiful post and what a treasure you have found—simply beautiful 😉
Great post, Robin! Glad you found that letter.
{{{{Robin}}}}
I’m days away from the fourth anniversary of my dad’s death.
We’ll always be their little girls.
What a gorgeous letter. You are right – now is the time to write a handwritten letter.
Wow. That’s amazing. Everything — the drawers, the letter, your memories of how things were. I’m glad you found it.
Oh, Robin….you’re making me cry!!
I got the unexpected tears clouding my vision too! So great to find a treasure like that. I have a handwritten note from my dad to me written when I had just gotten married. He had brought me by some acorn sqaush and missed me so he left a note. I saved it all these years (33). My dad passed away July 27, 2007. I still miss him every day.
When I was 14, I got a “secret admirer” card in the mail that lifted my spirits in immeasurable ways. It was signed in a youthful hand, simply, “a secret admirer” and I never found out who sent it.
But the handwriting on the envelope was not the same as that on the card itself. This was a handwriting I knew quite well:
It was my dad’s.
I never asked him about it – and I don’t think I ever will. I like the mystery of not knowing… but even more than that, I love it that my dad, who knew I was feeling rather sad during that season of life, somehow played a part in making it happen.
Oh Robin, that was sooo sweet, you made me cry. I loved that post.
Thanks for sharing that with us.
MommyWizdom
Thanks Robin, I will write that letter today!
Jeni, he will NEVER regret doing so; he will probably regret NOT doing so, though (tell him I said 😉 ).
BlapherMJ, what a legacy :). I feel much the same about my mom, who died too, too soon. I wish she could know me as a young woman, then as a mom.
Pamela, I don’t know either, but I understand that…I fingered Daddy’s letter, somehow reaching out and touching him….
Lizzie,Rachel, Shannon, Steph, Upstatemom, Christy, Mike…thank y’all :).
Kelly, you’re welcome (did you ACT on it?) 🙂
Saucy Momma, GLAD you found me! Equally glad to affirm what you already know :).
Tonguu Momma, my sympathies for both of your losses; I think that first one is the most difficult :/ (hugs).
Kristen, {{smiles}} it WAS a gift; and what a lovely perspective, to see it as from the Giver of Good & Perfect Gifts :).
Shelly, the frequency doesn’t matter imo; the fact you’re doing this at all makes it a future treasure for your children :). Good goin’, girlieQ :).
Seth, hmmm, this COULD be a great analogy (thanks for pointing out what I glossed over). So…you’re a connoisseur of fine woods, eh? 🙂
Carol, {{hugs}} to you; and yeah, I agree!
Jeanie, thank you…and I hope you’ve already written someone :).
Damselfly, it’s kinda funny; I found it, read it, and HAD to write my response immediately. I’m SO thankful I had a quiet block of time to do so right at that very moment.
Christi, you know? That response by readers surprised me. I mean, I know I was affected, but the fact it resonated that way with anyone else was a surprise. I hope they’re hopeful, encouraging tears :).
Junebug, you’re talking to someone who completely understands why you’d keep a little note like that. It’s the common, everyday kind of love we **used** to take for granted, but somehow knew was important :).
Stephen, your dad sounds like a kind, insightful man; what a precious gesture :).
Mommy Wizdom, awww…you’re sweet (no more tears, though, k?) 🙂
Donna, I’m so thankful a few people seem like they really will write letters. I feel THAT STRONGLY about it and I’m humbled anyone would be moved to do so after reading this. 🙂
Thanks for making me cry at work! 🙂
My father passed away too soon too – he was 56 and I wasn’t finished having kids yet, so he hadn’t met my youngest.
Fortunately, through our faith in Jesus, we’ll celebrate a big family reunion one day…and, Lord willing, he’ll enjoy all of his grandchildren for eternity!
Sigh… thanks for making me cry at my desk on a bleak Monday morning. I have letters from my Grandma as well. I will always cherish her chicken scratch letters 🙂
What a wonderful surprise! Think how much is means that you found it now instead of receiving it when you were a kid and probably would not have appreciated it nearly as much. Great post!
My dad fell down the stairs two days ago. It reminded me that someday too, I will be saying goodbye… but only for awhile. Thanks for having us savor the little things. 🙂
So, so sad and beautiful. I found a letter from my great-grandmother (!) written to me, starting with “To my darling, darling girl” and that was it for me.
Beautiful!
Hi, Robin! I’m a new reader and WOW. This is beautiful and so poignant. I know you must treasure that letter so much. Thanks for the inspiration to record more of life in real, old-fashioned letters.
Whatever happened to letters? Handwritten letters are the most beautiful things…but we just never do it anymore. One of the things I wanted to do in the new year was write more letters.
This post was beautiful-full of thought and emotion and memories. Thank you!
Oh, wow. So, so powerful, Robin.
Very, very nice. Thanks for sharing.
My dad passed away 3 days ago and it is the hardest thing I have ever gone through. I loved my dads handwriting and your story made me remember his note to me in the bible he gave me years ago. Thank you. Angie