Lost and Found

A couple of years before my father's death, he and his spouse decided to downsize. They were going to sell many of their possessions and move into a condo. My dad was a bit of a collector...technical books, photos/camera equipment, electronics, records and cds, trains, and musical instruments.

I remember dad's excitement many years earlier when he found his father's, (my opa's ) old mandolin while cleaning out the homestead in Germany. I have photos of my opa and the mandolin when he was a member of various music groups in the earlier part of the 1900's. I too was excited by the find.

Dad kept the mandolin safe and sound with his collection of instruments...guitars, keyboards, drums, violin, autoharp, recorders, and whatever else he could get his hands on. He had a music room in the house. Whereas he learned the guitar at a young age and was, as so many young men a member of a band, he later taught himself to play all the rest of the instruments.

I didn't want to appear that I was coveting anything so I didn't really make a big deal out of their belongings. Unlike my much wiser son, who laid claim to several valuable items including a monkey sculpture pondering a human skull, a Sapporo beer can that dad had turned into a lamp and a piece of art sporting an assortment of copper musicians on a black background.

I had however, always said, "I don't really want anything except my grandpa's mandolin."

I somehow had the idea that the mandolin would be in dad's possession despite their move. I discovered one day as they proudly announced that they had a successful house contents sale that the mandolin was gone. I was shocked and saddened particularly since most of the other instruments were still there. Realistically, I had no use for a mandolin. On the other hand, it had history, family history.

After his death, I did acquire a few items that had once been dad's. Among them was a twelve string guitar. I have no idea when or where he purchased it, but research, and ebay helped me determine that its value wasn't huge. It sat on a shelf in the basement for years, until one day, I decided it needed to be dusted off and sold. As I tipped it over, out fell a scrap of paper with a name, telephone number and a cash offer.

I sucked up my "let's phone this stranger and see if he still exists" courage, and made the call, speaking in double time in order to avoid sounding like a telemarketer. The gentleman whose name was on the paper still existed. He didn't hang up on me.

"Yes," said a male voice. "I believe I remember the guitar, the gentleman selling it, and the music room where all the instruments were. I'd be interested in seeing the guitar.  I have a collection In fact, I also purchased a mandolin from him."

"My grandpa's mandolin!" I shouted with excitement, shocked over the coincidence.

"Yes, I was thrilled with it. It's safe and has a prime spot on my wall," he responded. "I'll let you see it if you want", he added.

"That would be amazing," I answered.


A few days later, guitar in tow,  I knocked at the door of a friendly retired man who was eager to share his stories and show me his own "collector" room. He had  milk bottles, posters, and a number of instruments in his collection. It was a wonderful display.

He showed me where the mandolin hung proudly, and explained the origin of many of his other valuables. Then he told me his son was interested and would be inheriting the instruments one day.

Somehow, this all seemed right. I was happy. He allowed me to take photos. I had closure.

What I Have Learned at Age 60

It's a well known phrase. "You're never too old to learn something new". My discovery may be obvious to many, and maybe I should not be admitting this as a revelation so late in life. Perhaps I've never had the occasion to really think about it before now. I confess, it came to me like a lightening bolt yesterday morning as we were driving to church for my dad's memorial service. I mentioned my new piece of awareness to hubby who simply replied, "That's right. You've got it."

I had attended funerals in the past, mostly those of aged family members. When my mom died at a relatively young age after a short illness, I was so absorbed in my own challenges, a husband who had undergone recent surgery and two small children, one with medical issues, that I barely remember the events. I was sad, overwhelmed and stressed and everything felt like a huge blurr. I do have a memory of large crowds of people attending the service and vehicles which lined Liverpool Road from south to north in what appeared to be an endless procession.

During this past week we have been planning dad's memorial, writing a biography, clipping and gluing photo displays, selecting hymns and bible verses, printing bulletins and everything else involved with organizing this service. Sympathy cards arrived daily as did condolence emails and telephone calls. I was amazed at how many of my friends had somehow learned of our sad news. I was also surprised and pleased when some said they'd be attending the service. After all, they barely knew my dad if at all.

So what did I announce on our way to church yesterday? Only this, "I think I figured something out. I think that a lot of people attend funerals and memorial services to support the survivors".

The memorial service was lovely. I held it together long enough to complete my reading of "I'll Really Miss Him" (blog Oct. 9, 2010). I was sad, stressed, nervous and yet happy to see the terrific turnout of people. In attendance were family members plus many of dad's friends, church members, people from his old neighbourhood and representatives from places he'd worked. Then, there were my friends...close friends, distant friends, former co-workers and even my eighth grade teacher! It was fantastic to see them and to realize that all these people had taken the time to attend.

Last night, I mentioned to hubby that perhaps I wouldn't have any kind of a church service or gathering when I die...maybe just something small and private. His words were, "Before you decide that, remember what you just told me you learned".