Authors: Brian MacLearn
I took my time exploring the workroom. I gave a cursory look at the entire space and then slowly scrutinized every detail and object within. The first thing that struck me were the two large brown envelopes, notebook paper size, lying flat on top of the workbench, face down. I made no initial movement to pick them up. I tried to memorize everything about the layout of the room just like a professional investigator would do. Satisfied that everything else could be attributed to a normal workroom, I picked up the envelopes. After separating them, I could see there was nothing written on the back. I turned each one over. Scrawled across the front on the first envelope, in Grandpa’s handwriting, was
Jason
, and on the other one,
Randall
. My heart jumped up into my throat and, for a brief instant, I couldn’t draw in a breath. I swallowed hard and the constriction eased, but I was unsure if my legs would keep me upright much longer. Regaining a modest amount of composure, I held one envelope in each hand. They felt close in weight. Both were flat and free of any raised areas that might indicate something inside, other than just paper. It took all the resolve I could muster not to rip open the envelope addressed to me and free the contents inside.
I knew the envelopes could not contain all the pages that were missing from the diaries upstairs. Seeing a similar one addressed to my father made me wonder what might be inside of his. I had no doubt they would contain some last words and thoughts from my grandpa. I wasn’t sure what to do with my father’s envelope but decided to take it upstairs with me and give it to him tomorrow, after the meeting with the lawyer, maybe. It would depend on what I learned from the contents of my envelope and what meaning it might hold. I had a strange feeling, again, that I was missing something, and before I exited the workroom, I carefully looked it over once more. Everything was pretty much just shelves and a hodge-podge of tools scattered about. The only cupboard in the room was under the workbench at the far left end as I faced it. It was the cupboard that drew my attention.
Bending slightly, I grabbed the knob on the right hand door and pulled it open. I wasn’t entirely sure of what I was seeing, so I laid the envelopes back on the workbench and opened the left side door as well. With both doors open, I had no trouble comprehending what I was looking at. Where the shelves had once been, the space had now been fitted to conceal a heavy-duty safe. It had been placed within the interior of the cupboard,
and it fit snugly, almost like it was supposed to be there. I knew differently. Grandpa Jake wasn’t losing his mind. He had deliberately placed the safe here to hide whatever secrets it contained and every intuition that I’d been feeling was real and designed.
I wondered if the safe held all the secret treasures my grandpa had amassed over his life. I wasn’t aware of any, but who knows, maybe Grandpa hit the lottery before he died. I tended to believe that, more likely, the safe held all of his important documents and the missing pages from the journals. I tried to move the latch, hoping Grandpa had left it unlocked; no such luck. I passed on the key in my pocket, dismissing it because it was a combination lock and the key would be useless. I understood the only way to open it, short of dynamite, was to know the right combination. I thought about opening my envelope to see if the combination might be inside, but decided to wait. I didn’t want to get caught in the basement with the two envelopes in my hand. I closed the cupboard, unplugged the light and exited the workroom. I shut the door to the unknown secrets inside. Making sure I still had the padlock key in my pants pocket, I secured the latch and replaced the padlock. I tested it to make sure it stayed locked; satisfied that all was as it should be, I retraced my path across the basement.
I shut the light off and the basement instantly turned black and sinister. It was all in my mind, but I hustled up the stairs in the dark. I listened outside the door to the kitchen for any sounds from beyond. Hearing none, I cautiously opened the door and, determining the coast was clear, stepped out of the basement, swinging the door silently shut behind me. I thought about going upstairs to my old room to read the contents inside the envelope addressed to me, and then I wondered if it wouldn’t be better to go somewhere else entirely. I couldn’t think of any place off hand that would suffice and really didn’t want to spend the time to get there, so I bounded up the stairs two at a time and flew into my room. My bedroom door didn’t have a lock, but the bathroom door did. I knew it was childish, but I lifted the mattress from the box springs and placed the envelope with my dad’s name on it between them. My heart was starting to race with anticipation, and I danced into the bathroom, closing and securely locking the door behind me. I lowered the top cover to the toilet seat and sat down. I made a small tear in the flap of the envelope and, using my finger like a letter opener, ripped a ragged edge as I forced my finger from one end to the other. From force of habit I blew into the open end before looking inside.
There were several pages of notebook paper inside and one sheet of stationary. I pulled out the single piece of stationary first and read the words written in my grandfather’s handwriting.
April 22, 2004
Jason,
You don’t know how sorry I am that you are reading this. I should have told all of this to you in person, but somehow I never could find my voice or even the spirit to do so. I could blame it on never finding the right time, but that wouldn’t be fair. Call it for what it really was…selfishness. Before you read the rest, I want you to know how much I love you and that I’m proud of the man you have become. There have been a few things I should have handled differently. Hindsight is always easy, but never justified. Events might have caused you more heartache to begin with, but I can’t help but wonder if they might not have turned out better in the long run. I can see so many errors in my thinking as I look back…I hope in time you will forgive me and remember me for being a better person than I know myself to be. I love you and your dad too. I hope that what I failed to share in life may find a way to bring you peace for the rest of yours.
Grandpa
I wasn’t sure what to think, only that I now felt some trepidation at reading the rest of the contents inside the envelope. I had always wanted answers, and now I was more than a little afraid of what they might be. I read and reread the letter trying to decipher its meaning or hidden message. What things did Grandpa wish he could have done over? What did he mean about heartache to begin with? I didn’t understand. What did he do that he needed me to forgive him? If it hadn’t been for him and Grandma, I would never have been able to move on with my life and get past Mom’s death and Dad’s abandonment. I laid the envelope aside and stood up. Moving to the sink, I turned on the faucet and, cupping my hands, splashed some of the cold water onto my face. It helped, so I did it a couple more times then dried my hands and face on the hand towel. I felt a little more collected and looked at myself in the mirror. It was strange; the person looking back at me wasn’t the eighteen-year-old that used to inhabit this room, not so long ago.
The reflection staring back at me was much older and looked tired, worn out. I raised my hands to my face and covered my eyes with my palms, momentarily blocking out some of the light and the pitiful looking face in the mirror. I inhaled and exhaled as slowly as possible, then rubbing my eyes, I returned to my spot upon the toilet seat. I lifted the envelope from the floor where I had placed it and withdrew the notebook paper from inside. There were several pages held together at the top left corner with a paperclip. I prepared myself the best I could and then I began to read…
Jason,
There is much that you need to know, but I can’t put it all down here in case you are not the one to find this letter. If you are reading this and were the one to find it, then you must have found a way into my workshop. No doubt you have seen the safe that is locked and wonder about the contents within. It contains many of the answers for which you will undoubtedly be striving to find. I owe you those answers, but you should be careful with what you learn from them, once you have the knowledge in your possession. The combination to the safe is not written anywhere and can only be found by searching your heart for the right set of numbers to open the safe.
I have always felt that you and I had similar thought patterns, and I’m sure you didn’t take long to find this envelope. If you haven’t learned yet, you surely will soon, depending on how fast you found this letter, which I’m guessing was fairly quickly that I left everything I own to you and your dad equally, to do with what the two of you decide together. I’m hoping as you two work together, during this readjustment time, you will help heal some of the old wounds so long entrenched between the two of you. It is my hope you and your father will come to a resolution that enables the both of you to move forward together. You and he need each other, now more than ever. I hope you can once again find a purposeful meaning in your life and a life that includes your father.
If you will allow this old man to offer the one true wisdom he has to give…
Not every man has the ability to see life with his heart; many shy away from their feelings and let the moments that really matter run through their fingers like sand on a beach. You always wanted to know what it was that I said to your Grandma that would make her blush. It was simply this, “If I died today my life could not have been more fulfilled than it has been
,
loving you
.” It wasn’t just that saying this to her would cause her to turn red, it was because she knew I meant it. She could feel its truth and the depth of my love behind it. She allowed me to touch her heart, and I was rewarded by her love. There are many kinds of love, but none as special as the bond of two hearts, meant for each other. This was the love your grandma and I shared, just like your mother and father had between them, and what I also came to see in you and Allison too.
Jason, it is never too late to rectify the love of pure hearts separated from each other. Once joined together, their love can’t ever truly be extinguished. Once those hearts have bonded, they will always be a part of the other and, like two powerful magnets, they will continue to pull towards each other. Only when they are together is there a serenity and calmness to the storm that rages within them while they are estranged from one another. I’ve watched both of you these past years, and I know neither of you has gotten past loving the other. Sometimes the past, and even the here and now, have obstacles that need to be understood, maybe forgiven, and even apologized for, before new opportunities and new paths can be taken.
When you hold the one person who is meant to be with you, an inner connection pulls you together, creating a near-perfect tranquility that is at times, incomprehensible. Problems don’t seem as troublesome, time constraints disappear, and nothing matters but holding each other and trying to bring your two hearts as close together as possible. Though it is hard to keep your eyes open, you are never tired. The sensation of each other blends together until you can’t tell where one person ends and the other one begins. In this moment, life is as it should always be, nothing is impossible, and only love exists. This is the feeling that poets and writers spend their entire lives trying to describe, artists try to paint, and singers strive for in the songs they sing. To have it for real is to have it all.
Something else happens once you’ve been touched by this amazing love; you have the ability to see through the haze and enjoy life with brilliant clarity. It’s as if a switch has been turned on inside and you finally see things and others for what and who they really are. You are free to live your dreams and experience all that life has to offer. Sometimes love really can conquer all obstacles.
I met your Grandma Sarah in nineteen forty-eight, when she was eighteen and I was twenty. I had just returned home from serving two years of post WW II service in the army. I came to Cedar Junction to visit a good friend who had been discharged from our unit four months earlier. What I found when I arrived was Sarah Peterson, his younger sister. It started the moment she answered the door and the feeling of seeing her for the first time has never left me. Ever since that day, I have spent my entire life trying not to diminish the importance of that first connection. It was the moment when the heavens opened up and the world existed in perfect harmony. Neither of us spoke; we could only stand on opposite sides of the screen door with our eyes locked together. What I saw in those beautiful blue eyes melted away every fiber of doubt and disillusionment within me. In the briefest of instances, I knew that she was the one for me. I’m sure if you could have asked your grandma she would have told you the same thing.
I never left Cedar Junction after that, staying to work at the local millworks. Let me rephrase that; Cedar Junction became my home, and my life was spent working towards building a life with your grandma and me here. Ours was not a perfect story either. I had to fight my pride once and leave my new home here. It was a journey to save myself and to fight for the one and only thing that truly mattered to me, your grandma. I was caught up in the notion we could not have a life together until I had made something out of myself. I worked all the hours in a week that I could towards the day we could marry. Your grandma and I were made for each other. That was something that was never in doubt, but I got lost in the struggles to gain a footing, losing sight of the precious moments in the here and now.