My Dad, Benjamin

My Dad, Benjamin

It was a sunny and crisp Saturday morning nearing my moving home day. I was not looking forward to having to move and the task ahead of me this weekend. My renovations were almost done and I was determined, or more determined than when I had to empty my house, to not move items in that I no longer need to carry with me.

I had items I have specifically packed away without the intention to use them during my temporary rental but there are many many boxes of goodness knows what that I have to sort through and at least downsize.

I had purchased an older farm style house after my divorce. There was a delightful charm and coziness about the home. My goal in renovating it was to create a comfortable and separate workspace. The front door was going to be a foyer with a door off to the left and then the main home entrance to the right. I want a bright and open-concept home, without staring at my office all day.

As I transitioned from Mrs. to Ms. and our children were on their own, I was aware of the need to really embrace my life and make decisions for me. I had spent years making personal sacrifices for our family – all by choice as I wanted to be a stay-at-home mum and a housewife. I wanted that life, and it was amazing.

I walked into the garage and saw the areas of boxes and figured I would tackle the easiest first. All the boxes from the attic would be easier to identify as keep for memory sake or pass on. Most of these I had taken the time to organise before moving here, and I knew the box pile was mostly sorted.

I almost felt like I was cheating by having such a head start on this area. Funny the games your head plays while you spend a weekend sorting through decades of family history. I also set out rewards for myself as I progress through the garage. This area granted the smallest reward but I had to start somewhere.

There were only two boxes left when I saw a box I had never noticed or paid attention to. On the lower corner of the box was handwritten “Anne’s keepsakes”. Before I moved, there were tears in my eyes. This was mum’s memorabilia. I did not know if I should even open the box as it felt like an invasion of her privacy. I brought the box into the rental and placed it beside the couch. I would leave it for now.

~

I allowed my body to fall into my couch. I rested my head so I was looking at the ceiling and my legs stretched out onto my coffee table. I breathed and felt my body sink into relaxation mode. After the awkward positions, moving boxes, loading up my car or unloading boxes, my body was done. My Saturday hike up Mount Work or Mr. Fin never leaves me feeling drained like this. I lowered my chin and as my eyes opened and readjusted to the new view, I noticed mum’s keepsake box.

Without hesitation, I went and sat in front of the box. I stared at it, not wondering if I should open it but rather what I should do with the contents inside. My mum was an amazing being, as was my dad. My dad died when I was in grade one and my memories of him are more faded than memories of my mum. She never remarried after my dad, and I never knew her to date anyone. And she lived for decades after my dad, on her own. Always.

As I thought about my mum as a woman, a widower, I wondered if she ever felt lonely. It was in that moment I took the lid off the box. As I peered in, not knowing what would be inside, I saw it was maybe half full and a real assortment of items. I could see photos and postcards, there was a scarf and gloves, several bundles of letters each wearing a different colour ribbon, a polaroid camera, about six reels of home videos, and some file folders not overly full. Anything my mum felt of value to her was in this box. It was a new perspective of my mum, and I appreciated the vantage point.

A smile came over me as I gloried in the treasure of my mum’s keepsakes. I felt honoured to be in possession of it and I knew as its keeper, I would keep the entire box as is. I could not take a part or divide anything in here. I started in the opposite order to re-pack the box. When I picked up the last file folder, a pink flash caught my eye as the bottom of the folder drooped in my hand. I hesitated, and as if guided by some other energy, my hand reached into the folder and pulled out the pink item and set it gently aside.

Once the lid was on the box, I went into the kitchen and moved with ease as I started to make tea and cut-up a pear. I sat at the counter and grabbed my purple pen and my small black notebook. I found a clean page and wrote the date at the top. Always same pen, always same format and structure. After that, the words were free from my heart and poured into pages of feelings about the weekend and the keepsake box. I closed and set aside my small black notebook, placed my purple pen on top in the middle, and went to get ready for bed. Work and my morning alarm were fast approaching.

~

The week had flown by and before I knew it, it was Friday night. It was only as I was cuddled into my blanket watching a rom-com when I thought of the pink envelope I had set aside. It was still where I had lay it after going through the keepsake box. Absorbed in the budding love of the two main characters, with many mysterious twists, I began to wonder more and more about the pink envelope.

When my movie finished, and I wiped the happy tears from my eyes, I stretched and went over to the pink envelope. I brought it back to my couch and my eyes just stared at it – Anne was written on the front. Nothing else. Just Anne.

I opened the envelope to reveal the expected contents – paper but also a bump. I slid out the folded paper and once in my hand, I was able to see a single note written on floral paper and as I unfolded the larger paper, another envelope was inside with the bump. I placed the envelope and the long letter to the side and read the note:

Dear Anne,

I am sorry to share this news by letter. I felt it was better to come from a friend than a lawyer. Benjamin passed away in his sleep and we found this for you. No one read it, I have slipped my note inside the envelope for you. Please call soon. We miss you and wish you were here with us.

With love,

Rose

Tears were in my eyes. I reached for the long letter and began to read:

Dear Anne,

My health is not well and for many years I have stayed silent, trying not to interfere with your life. I know when you told me you were pregnant, you wanted me to be happy and excited with you. As much as I felt that on the inside, I was also aware the day before you father had approached me with a stern talking to. He made me see how I could never give you what he said you deserved, and I believed him. After a lifetime, I finally want to share with you that I know I could have given you everything you needed because we had love. I never stopped loving you, and I am sorry I left you and our baby.

Please take the other envelope to the post office near your parents home, and ask for the mailbox belonging to you. I have left you some items to hopefully show you I never stopped loving you or thinking about you.

I am sorry for leaving you and our baby.

Benjamin

I sat there not knowing what to make of the discovery of my “dad”. My mum had no other children that I know of, and when I asked about my dad, her response was there was an accident when she was still pregnant with me. I had learned to be selective in what information I asked, and I knew is his name. Tears flooded my eyes and my world was spinning like a tornado.

~

Over time, I gathered the strength and emotional wherewithal to visit the mailbox. I kept the key a secret from even my closest of friends. I felt like I was privy to an experience that did not belong to me. Perhaps my mother already went to the mailbox, but the envelope seemed intact and in pristine condition.

As I opened the mailbox, I realised there was no way my mum had visited and discovered what Benjamin had left for her. I started to empty the contents of the mailbox into my tote bag. When I pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a cotton tea towel and secured with yarn in a bow, I noticed a small homemade tag near the bow. As my fingers moved the yarn to see, I read “For Baby Crawford”. This was for me, with my name on it. I held it and continued to load my tote. When the entire mailbox was empty, I placed my bundle on top, went to the counter and returned the key, and made my way to my car.

Once inside, I had to open my bundle. This was the first gift I would receive from my dad, who I never knew was alive until recently. There was much meaning and significance in all that I had discovered since my mum passed away – and many things will remain unknown.

I pulled at one of the yarn ends and the bow easily came undone. I unwrapped the yarn from the bundle and placed it seam side up in my lap. I gently unfolded, my heart was beating hard and my stomach was full of butterflies. When I revealed the gift, my eyes were able to read the note on top without needing to analyse any further the contents.

My dad wrote to me:

Dear baby,

I am sorry I do not even know your name or even who you are. I made the worst decision of my life when I left your mother, and I regretted it every day since. I worked hard and had a family of my own, but you were always in my heart. I saved what I could hoping to provide you with something, anything. There is $20,000 here for you and I ask you to spend it as you desire. No rules, just be carefree and enjoy the experience you choose.

I wish you a life full of love and happiness,

Your Dad, Benjamin Crawford

Written by Sara Christine Beaman, 2021