My dad didnt have much. A bag of clothes, two pairs of shoes, an old computer. Neatly piled stacks of bills and receipts, handwritten pay schedules for creditors, and lists of short-, medium-, and long-term goals. Among his meager belongings was an external hard drive. Ive had it since I picked up his stuff, a few days after he died. I passed it a dozen times a day, knowing about its existence but fearing what I may find. Sunday, I finally had the courage to hook up the hard drive. In it, I found my dad. Thousands of ebooks -- full anthologies of his favorite authors, books that he read to me when I was little, books I have heard about my entire life, books that defined his entire life. Months of music -- a fantastic and fantastically organized collection of blues, soul, classical, and classic rock n roll; songs that were the soundtrack to our existence together, including more than a few punk rock albums I would listen to on repeat as a teenager. I miss my dad every minute of every day, and I imagine I will for the rest of my life. But now I have this incredible inheritance to comfort me when I need my dad. Thank you, dad, for your magical collection of you in words and sounds. It is the very best thing you could have left behind.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 02:02:57 +0000
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