I knelt down on the closet floor and began to rummage my way through the storage bin. It had been packed hurriedly--an array of photos, picture frames, and loose random papers were spilling over the brim. I grabbed handfuls of photos and flipped through them--his face racing by me in sepia, black and white, and colored Polaroid prints.
The television in the other room blared out promises of clearer skin and fulfillment from ninety-nine cent cheeseburgers. I placed the stack of photos back and lifted the contents of the bin as far up as I could without dropping it and making too much noise. I looked under the raised pile for any notebooks or envelopes addressed to me. There wasn't anything but a cheap key chain and a University of Tennessee flag that had once been tacked up to his bedroom wall.
I stood up quickly and dusted myself off. Even nearly five years after his death, I had forgotten how dirty of a task it was to dig up memories and souvenirs of the past. Stirring up that thin layer of dust on my heart had made my eyes burn with the threat of tears.
I walked out of his bedroom empty handed. My plan to leave with any letters smuggled under my shirt had failed. I knew my grandmother would have happily given me anything that I had found, but I was embarrassed that even after all of these years I was still searching for him. I had hoped that I would discover a letter he had written me years before. The truth was, though, that I had all of the letters he had written me packed away in a box under my bed. I had found them one by one on the day of his death while we cleaned out his room. They were scattered across his room--behind his dresser, in his notebook, addressed on his nightstand. Some were half-written; some made sense while others were inky fragments of dementia pieced together by good intentions and confessions.
So, that was it., I thought. Those are the only words of permanence he left me. I remembered that each letter could be summed up in three words: I love you. I smiled, wiped the dust from my eyes and resolved to make my own words beautiful because one day, that will be all that is left of me.
