Treasure Boxes

Dear Dazzy,

Today I found a box of "stuff" in the garage-your stuff from the car place; all your "SOLD" files and cold call info and training manuals and whatnot.


It was a surprise find-I have always assumed it was Chrissie trinkets-and it made me smile that heartbroken smile to see your great photo-shopped postcards, read some notes written in your beautiful, artistic handwriting, and look through the scribbles on the backs of busio cards-all written in that shorthand that was so typically cryptic Daz!

I even found a cigar still in a wrapper; pens, paper-nothing spectacular, just everyday items last touched by you.

I recycled what I could, then sorted the office items into things I will use in my classroom and things that I will donate. I kept a few scribbled notes to go into the special box in your closet, but the amazing thing was that I didn't cry about any of it.



I mean, it's just stuff-even if it was yours, it's nothing that will make my life better for having found it.

Or maybe I'm wrong?

Finding things like this box of ordinary life remnants reminds me how full-on you were in your career, always striving to be the best/do the best for your clients, and in turn, for us.

You never did anything halfway, LOL, and I grew to love you for that after a short while.

Your drive and determination were second to none, my sweet Aussie roo-boy. I've got proof!

The contents of the box may not be special to anyone else, but the handwriting, the trinkets, the collection of pens and paper-your friends and colleagues are laughing right about now, knowing how you "collected" pens from everywhere you went (very unintentionally I might add)...all of the seeming useless things that I had to sort through today are like another little "hi" from you, a reminder that you are still a part of this family-so much so that your junk is still cluttering up the garage of the ole MelYork. :P



Love you Dazzy. Always.

Kisses, Wifey.