Working From Your Office
Dear Dad,
I work from your home office a lot. And most calls I’m on are video calls. Everyone can see your room. One man asked me if I was some sort of crazy hockey person. Another person asked me if I was using a Zoom background.
Your office walls are not visible. Every inch of wall is covered with hockey autographs. Hockey was your passion. Every person who wrote us a condolence note mentioned your love of Rangers because to know you was to know all of you, and your love of hockey was a big part of you.
When I am in your office, I am surrounded by so many parts of you. Your commitment to your love of hockey screams from the walls. Your love of reading enormous hardcover books lines the shelves. Your love of music is represented in the 1000+ cds and 500+ records. Your commitment to working hard so you could buy a big house is represented in the enormity of this room over the garage that was all yours.
It is comforting to be around your stuff because you loved your stuff. You owned everything with pride. I sometimes think that my tendency to declutter is an adverse reaction to your tendency to clutter. But nothing you owned was clutter to you. You have several records that have multiple copies. You had your own. You had Mom’s. You had ones you found on the street. You had records from my friends Ray & Brian.
I won’t work out of your office forever. I know you would love that I was sitting at your desk. It’s impossible not to think about you when I am in there. And I need that now. I won’t keep all of your things. But I’ll let myself get lost in your office a little bit longer, just enough to imprint everything in my mind. You had so many treasures. But you're the only treasure I want.
