Buried Treasure

This has been an extraordinarily hard year for me and my extended family. Death following us around. First my cousin, then my sister and finally my mother in law. If the law of threes prevails, hopefully we have seen the last of heartache, at least for a while. We could all use some healing. 

There has been a silver lining in all this, at least a sliver of one. In searching through the remnants left behind from lives lost we have come upon buried treasure. Not in the kind that will line our pockets with gold but ones that can fill hearts to overflowing.

The most recent came compliments of my niece. She had gone through some of her mom's papers and come upon several letters her mom had held onto through the years. One in particular was stunning.

In the late 1950's my sister and I attended the same summer camp. In the days before cell phones, daily reports and pictures giving chapter and verse, parents and children had little contact. Moms and dads waiting for post cards, many filling in the blanks of pieces beginning  "today I…". Parents sending brief notes to kids who really wanted nothing more than gift packages (if the camp permitted). The content of correspondence typically of scant consequence.

Visiting day, in the middle of this eight week adventure, was for many an emotional reunion. One that would lose its meaning shortly after a parent's car exited the camp parking lot. But not always.

On Sunday, July 19, 1959, my mom and dad travelled to the mountains of Pennsylvania to gaze upon their 7 year old son and 11 year old daughter. While the particulars are long lost, my father's reflections on that visiting day were carried by my sister, literally and figuratively, for the remaining 65 years of her life.

On the morning of Monday, July 20, 1959, my father typed out a two page letter to my sister. It began: "It is only 8:30 Monday morning and here I am writing a letter to my sweetheart. I could hardly wait until I got to the office this morning to write to you... We know that you are having a wonderful summer, but… that did not surprise us because you are a happy, intelligent and thoughtful girl, and if you remain that way the rest of your life you will be accepted by any group and happy with that group."

My dad was and always will be the person I most admire in my days upon this planet. Even though he passed away 45 years ago, he still remains a presence in my life, and was of equal meaning to my sister. He was unfailingly honest, immeasurably bright but beyond all else he instilled in his children the need to be good, decent people caring for the welfare of others as much as oneself. My sister carried his positive example with her from her first days to her last. She was, as my father had been, greatly loved by all those who were fortunate enough to be part of her "group."

"What made us happiest of all was the fact that we are truly proud of you and proud of the way you are growing up... We are proud of you because you are (which is truly surprising at your young age), kind, considerate, loving and, most important, very understanding..  We can truly say we know of no parents who are happier with both their children."

Who writes such meaningful, compassionate letters to their children? What men (I do not mean to generalize, but I must for this one moment) in the 1950's, or even today, express such emotions on paper? There is a vulnerability that my dad showed that was so overwhelmingly endearing.

When my niece forwarded me a copy of this letter, it made me cry. Cry for the loss of my sister. Cry for the loss of our father. Cry for the sheer magnificent beauty and majesty of his words.

My dad concluded his letter to my sister with a small lament. "Fathers are usually so busy with work that they forget the problems that face their children, they forget their children are growing up... and as a result they don't know their children. I just hope that I will never be too busy to spend time with you...to talk to you, write a letter to you when I feel like it, and to look at you and realize just how lucky I am to have a wonderful daughter of whom I am very, very proud."

"Do I have to tell you that I love you very much? I do."

Buried treasure. Worth more than all the riches in the world.

P. S. IT HAS NOW BEEN POINTED OUT, BY MY BROTHER IN LAW, THAT THIS VISITING DAY OCCURRED EXACTLY 65 YEARS TO THE DAY BEFORE MY SISTER’S PASSING. AND MY DAD’S LETTER WAS WRITTEN 65 YEARS TO THE DAY BEFORE THE BIRTH OF MY SISTER’S GRANDDAUGHTER - HOW COULD I NOT HAVE NOTICED THIS IMMEDIATELY?