Dad Again

I told myself (call it a promise, if you like) that I would think about my father whenever eating pizza.

Um, it didn't happen.

The truth is that I don't miss my father. After a week or two (of little to no feelings on the subject), I cried for a month or two. But then, that was that.

I used to call him on the phone weekly... or biweekly. I mean, I wasn't that reliable. But he never wanted more... may well have been able to do with a lot less.

Anyway, he was gone.

I got used to the idea.

And moved on.

It really is as simple as that.

Oh, right.

The candles.

I can't remember if I bothered to light a specific candle for him. But these are those type of candles. And I took this picture a few months (perhaps, six months) after he'd died, having every intention of using said picture in a write-up like this when I took it.

So, there you are, a Post Card Image in memorial.

I never cared for this shirt. So, I threw it away rather quickly. But it is the thought that counts, right?

I no longer have any love (not a scrap of it) for a single member of my family.

I am fine lumping myself into that category.

As a class, it is my contention that we suck... hard.

I did not know that I would feel this way as my father was dying. And if I had, I may have done things differently. But then, given the opportunity to do things differently, I would do almost everything in my entire life differently. So, it is difficult to play that game.

Where do you start?

Where do you stop?

Anyway, the shirt from which the image derives was selected for me, because I like green... or liked green.

Green is for LeeZards!

And with that in mind, I revamped my life back in 2000 or so, so that green was the dominant color, green was something I wore almost every day... and in fact, every single day for a year or two.

So, the green shirt was a nice thought.

But then, my father was a collector. And there was a literal horde of Silver & Gold (you know, valuable stuff) to be found amongst his effects.

And what was selected for me was a green shirt, a green notebook, and a few other odds and ends of similar value.

Five years later, and I am still looking for a suitable project for The Notebook.

There He Is!

So, that guy is my father... or was.

He's dead, now.

Have I mentioned?

I think I probably have.

Anyway, this is the loot... part of it, my part of it.

I guess I'll talk about Gold & Silver and such again, later on... you know, after the next image.

So, for now, I'll just concentrate on this stuff. And this is the good stuff. And most of it is gone... already, in the garbage. For, I am not a keeper of stuff.

The ten pound weight was, probably, the first to go. If I lived closer, I would have nabbed the entire set... and then, had that to throw away. But as it was, I only took the one piece. It's enough. I used it as a sort of weighted discus for awhile. And then, I got rid of it.

Most of this stuff I've gotten rid of.

No.

Sorry.

That's a lie.

But I did get rid of the stick pin. I'd remembered that, had wanted it when I acquired the watch (more to come on that, later), but got rid of it over this last winter. I really don't care about it. And the sharp pointy end was annoying. So, I threw it in the bin.

So you see, as others have observed in the past, I really do not care that much about physical objects. For the most, they tend to weigh me down after awhile.

In fact, I've completely culled almost everything out of my life (willingly and unwillingly, gotten rid of almost everything I've owned, down to what fit in the trunk of a car, back of a pick-up, or into a few suitcases) a good half-dozen times in my life.

So, a simple stick pin?

It was easy to get rid of.

The green notebook, as I have said, was put in a pile for me. It was a nice selection. One of the things I remember fondly about my dad was going to the stationary store as a teenager and being able to buy a lot of fancy stuff: high-end graph paper, engineering quality drafting tools, and a collection of colored pens and pencils the envy of any artist. I made some pretty cool dungeons, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, so not only is that notebook green, it's of a class, and as an item in the class, it's nearly perfect.

I no longer have any of the journals I kept while hitch-hiking. But the early ones were all done in notebooks of this size.

So, it's an awesome notebook.

I still don't know what to do with it, though.

The ΑΧΣ pin got thrown away over this past winter, as well. My father belonged to a fraternity: The ΑΧΣ House. I never met another member. I never wore the pin. I do not keep dead weight for long.

I've started cutting my hair with the scissors, just like my father did. I like that he cut his hair with these exact scissors, as well. It is, perhaps, the quintessential item from my father's estate.

The two keys were to my father's condo. Upon his death, the locks were changed and I was not given a new set of keys.

Let us just say things got contentious (at least from my point of view) rather quickly.

I was keeping the keys as Runes (objects of divination). But I've got better... or at least, others with not nearly the negative emotional overlay. So, to the bin, again, along with the rest.

And that brings us to the black circle thing, which is a pine wood derby wheel. My father helped me with that.

Well, helped...

We won.

The car won.

And as I aged (through high school), one of the wheels fell off. And that was the wheel I kept, throwing out the rest of the car.

And that brings us to the watch and the ring.

For a good twenty years, I visited my father weekly. I took him shopping, made lunch, and ate with him. Often, during this time, I lived within walking distance.

And just to make it clear, I was a halfway (but perhaps, only a halfway) decent son, when not living in the same state, I tended to call him just as often.

Whatever.

It's not important.

I saw a lot of my father.

Or as I like to say, "I was there with him in life. So, I had no need to be there in death", i.e. when he died.

In the neighbourhood of four years prior to my father's demise, I did a little (but just a little) pre-estate planning with him. Nothing major, though. He never felt like going anywhere. And more extensive financial instruments (wills, etc) would have required a notary.

In retrospect, I should have just paid a notary to come to him.

But I did not.

Of course, if we are being perfectly honest, I doubt a notary would have changed a blessed thing.

Anyway (if I remember correctly), it was during this time period that I was gifted with the watch and ring.

In theory, the watch belonged to my father's father. Though, I don't really believe that... or more accurately, I do not believe the watch was important to my grandfather.

Did gramps own it? Probably.

Did he care about it or use it as his pocket watch of choice? Probably not.

The coolest thing about the watch was that grandpa's social security card was packed with it.

I do not know anything about the ring.

Though, in mentioning rings, it is probably (most certainly) important to note that this is not The Ring.

In between my father falling ill and settlement of the estate, grandma's wedding ring and all of her jewellery disappeared... or at least, disappeared from my line of sight.

Of course, I cannot remember anyone ever asking about it... myself included.

And I find it hard to believe that there is any serious question regarding whatever became of any of it.

I like to believe that if given the chance I would have gifted the ring (and certain stamps), as a way of saying Thank You for Services Rendered.

But I wasn't given the chance.

And so, we shall never find out.

Fate!

That word looks like it belongs here. After all, I do believe those are astrological charts.

I don't know why my father had them. He was not a believer... perhaps, in anything.

Seriously, maybe, not nothing... not nothing at all.

I did not have the opportunity to review my father's effects in their native habitat.

I was out of town when he fell ill. And I did not feel like returning to watch him die.

So, I did not.

And in truth, I have never regretted the decision.

But all the fun stuff happened in those first few days... those first few hours, really.

I mean, I wasn't there.

I wasn't included.

I don't really know.

But I do know that beyond the watch and beyond the ring, the only other item of the like I can remember receiving (or if you like, taking) was a music box.

My grandmother collected music boxes. Upon her death, my father got half. And since I was there (just like I was every week), I got first pick. So, I chose the best one and left the other ten, twenty, fifty, or however many (but I would guess well over fifty) music boxes for others to split-up.

And the one I took, well, that eventually got gifted to another family member.

But as I have said, I wasn't there when my father died and I didn't rush to return to the the area.

But then, at some point, the timing doesn't matter.

Within the week, claims had been made, ownership claimed, and out of all the coins, stamps, and collectibles, a shirt and a notebook had been selected for me, as my share, as what I may have reasonably wanted.

Um, no.

I mean, it's true, I don't care that much for physical things.

But come on?

Coins?

Stamps?

Collectibles?

None?

Really?

Get Real!

I wanted my share... to sell if nothing else, burn in a funeral pyre, re-gift, or to do whatever I wanted.

But out of all those stamps, coins, and collectibles that were all easily-convertible to cash, it was somehow decided that I would not want any of it.

Not a single piece.

And that's pretty much The When & The Where my relationship with my family dissolved into thin air.

You know the real funny thing?

If I had just taken a dollar's worth (in face value) of coins at the end of every visit, there wouldn't have been a whole lot left... of coins, stamps, or pretty much anything, at all.

And now, of course, there's pretty much nothing left... of absolutely anything... anything, at all.