A box full of love

after losing my mother when I was 5 years old, my father worked two jobs. When he died of liver cancer at age 75, I was completely devastated. I was hoping he would stay alive, but now I was forced to face his closet and five drawers and throw away or give away his things because one never knows what one will pass on to those who need it.

　　When I was young and needed money, my father would often disappear to his room and then appear with the money. I never knew where the money came from, but just weirdly thought the room might grow some money fruit for me. Then one day, I suddenly heard my father tell my sister to go to his room and get some money out of the black box. Why was I never allowed to look in that black box or see what was in it? Was it because I was too young, or was it because my sister had privileges that I did not have?

　　I remembered the black box, and after all these years, it still haunted me, what was inside it and where is it now? What treasures were hidden inside, and when could I go and see its magical contents?

　　Year after year, I grew up, while my father grew old. The funny thing is, no matter how much you wish both parents could stay young forever, his hair is getting whiter and whiter, his face is getting wrinkled, and his figure is getting more and more stooped. But whenever I visited him, even when he took his last breath, he still had a smile in his eyes.

　　As I packed and sorted things in his room that day, I thought of that black box more than once. With tears in my eyes, I dealt with the things in my hands that repeatedly reminded me of the past, that I had to end this quickly, that this was the last chapter of my father's life, that all things and memories had to be compressed into trash cans and boxes.

　　After emptying the closet and the five-drawer cabinet, the room became empty, my father was gone, even his things were gone, and another new era in my life was about to begin. How can you go on without the person you love and need the most is there? Who can answer me now when I call and say "I love you, Dad"?

　　In the last drawer, the most important part of my father's old age - the place where he kept his phone, his medicine, and his glasses - I saw the little black box, and it wasn't what I expected, or did I just not know what I was expecting? Was it possible that it was padded with satin and adorned with a bunch of jewels?

　　I reached for it with a trembling hand, closed the door to the room, and dumped the contents on the bed. What I found in the box turned out to be a record of all the things that had been in my life: my mother, my childhood, tragedies, happiness, and love.

　　In the box were things my father had treasured all his life: his marriage certificate to Mom, crumpled and fragile with time; Mom's death certificate; some coins that must have meant a lot to him; a letter of thanks from an old, close friend who had long helped in the face of others' hardships; a picture of my mother in one of my father's favorite and most talked-about yellow dresses; a picture of me when I was six years old. The photo of me at age 6 with the childish handwriting: "For Daddy, love, Debbie"; and the cards, the many, many cards I sent to my father - Christmas, birthday, Father's Day cards over the years - each one with a note from me. -each one with words I wrote to him from my heart.

　　I was in the box! My mother was in the box too, and there was no money in it, no insurance papers, no legal documents - just things that meant nothing to anyone else, but my father, everything. I imagine he reread everything inside, again and again, crying or laughing for himself; I guess he must have done this a lot because the papers inside were well kept.

　　I never knew I was my father's most cherished possession, and this box not only told me, but showed me my past, and what I had just lost a few days before - a father's soul and a love for his daughter that would never die.

　　This black box is now mine, and when I reach the last day of my life and what I have is thrown into a green garbage bag, my children will find this box, and in it, discover themselves, and my soul and love, and learn that the most important thing in life is the love we have for others.