The Quarter Map

Mom leaves me pennies. I’ve found hundreds of them since she died two years ago, but that’s a story for another day. Now Dad, he leaves me quarters…not as often as Mom, but I know they are from him. In fact, I found one in the grass today.

The first quarter I found was the day after Dad’s funeral. Walking with a busy crowd on State Street, it called my name. I picked it up and put it in a special place in my wallet. I don’t know how to explain it, but I knew it was from him.

Toward the end, right before Mom and Dad died, I found Dad at the dining room table looking at this cardboard map of the United States — each state had a cutout for its own commemorative quarter. Apparently, he had collected them over the years, and carefully put them in their proper place.

He showed it to me and told me it was “worth something” — doing the math, I silently figured it was worth about 25 cents times 50. Dad wanted me to know it was there — you know, after he was gone. He was frustrated though, as there was one quarter missing.

It made me sad. Besides the fact that they were both dying, my dad’s life had come to this — sitting at a table rummaging through quarters completing this silly map. I felt like a piece-of-shit daughter too, because I knew that I had a coffee can filled with change at home, and I should be sitting down with him, finding that missing quarter, damn it. But there was too much else to do. And it was all just too freaking sad.

Mom died. Then two months minus one day later, Dad died.

Now began the task of going through all their stuff — sifting through what was left of their lifetime of belongings.

One night, after a particularly sad day, as I was clearing out the bookcase, I found the quarter map. I had completely forgotten about it. Immediately, I thought of the quarter I found the day after Dad’s funeral, and ran to get it out of my wallet.

It was not the missing quarter, but wouldn’t that have made a nice ending to this story…

So I went home, quarter map under my arm. Sobbing, I spilled my coffee can of change onto my bedroom floor and sifted through every one of those damn quarters, looking for the missing one. It was not there.

Washington. Fucking. State.

Needing some kind of resolution, I popped a different quarter in there, thinking “close enough”, and went to bed.

A few weeks later, I woke up overwhelmed with grief…it happens when you least expect it, and for whatever reason, this day was one of the worst. I was begging for Dad to give me a sign that day. “Please, I just need to find a quarter from you and everything will be OK.” I left for work, scanning the ground in the parking garage, looking for that quarter…looking at every inch of the ground when I got to work. No quarter.

I went about my day. The sadness did not dissipate, but I stopped looking for the quarter.

After work, the boyfriend came over and we went to my favorite place where I could slam a couple beers. He could sense I was needing this. And slam the beers I did, but dang, I felt no better at all. I said nothing to the boyfriend about being particularly sad that day, nor had I ever mentioned any of this quarter nonsense. Sufficiently numbed, we were ready to leave.

Boyfriend pulls out some cash to pay, and a quarter falls from his pocket smack dab between my feet. I pick it up.

Washington State.

I immediately burst into tears, then sit and tell him about the quarter map. He adds that he typically never carries change, but that day he stuck it in his pocket rather than tossing it in a jar like he normally would.

I got home and popped out whatever the hell I had in there, and put in Washington State. I got my quarter that day, after all. And I know it was sent by Dad, on the day I needed it the most. And ultimately, I did help Dad complete that map.

And I haven’t had a bad day since.

It turns out Dad was right after all, and that quarter map was indeed “worth something” — in fact, it’s the most valuable thing of all.

Thanks, Dad. I love and miss you, and I know you and Mom are watching over us.