Mom asked me if I would clean out Dad's desk and his stuff in the office of their home. I will be making another trip to California mid September for the birth of my third grand son. I can probably spend a few days helping Mom.
Dad's desk is a cornucopia of pretty much anything you can imagine. Paperwork, tools, various nuts, bolts, screws, Sudoku puzzles, mathematical equations, pamphlets on various plants, assorted garden seeds, empty prescription bottles, balls of tin foil, rubber bands, chunks of metal, manuals to tools, and just about anything you would not expect to find in a desk.
I have already taken all his diaries home. I have been reading through them and making notes for the book I hope to write about Dad.
I still feel very strange when I am sorting and packing up his things, when he is still with us. You would think after a year, I would be used to him not living in their home, but I still expect him to come in from the back yard in his overalls. I realize he has no use for most of his stuff, yet, I remember how important it was to him when he was home...