So many years. So many memories.
I went through part of my Dad's dresser today. I took all the socks and plain t-shirts and underwear and put them in a garbage bag to donate to the Salvation Army or Goodwill or what-have-you. But I kept the more meaningful stuff.
There were the bow ties. As far back as I can remember, my dad wore bow ties. Now most people look really stupid in a bow tie, but Dad actually looked like he should be wearing one. In fact, I didn't even know he owned any straight ties, but I found some of those, too. Still, it was the bow ties that were interesting.
There was one that was printed with parts of a 1040 tax return -- he was a CPA, after all. There was one printed with a piano keyboard going across -- he loves music, and my mother was a pianist. There were plain ones for everyday, and fancy ones for special occasions. There were also a few bolo ties -- which he wore for more casual events.
But what really hit home were the t-shirts. There was one from the SF Opera, and one that listed operatic maillaises -- puns on names of operas. There were a couple from the Stern Grove concerts, where his late friend Tex had worked from the first season almost until his death. He had a shirt from the Renaissance Pleasure Faire, from, I think, the year that Paul took him.
There was one from the Chinatown Salvation Army, for which he had done audits for many years. There were a couple from different stables that Rita had worked at, and the one that Barbara gave him that says "My kids think I'm an ATM". Oddly, this was given to him after he had been forced to retire and had no assets and very little income.
I came across a lot of memories in those drawers. It was not an easy task, and it isn't done -- there is so much more to be found all over the house.
That's a good thing, though. That there is a bit of both of my folks, scattered throughout the house. That's what makes it a home, I think.