The Metal Box In The Closet!

(Write a story about an old family secret surfacing generations later)

The Parker family knew there were things you just didn’t talk about,  ever.  

It was because their father made it clear by totally shutting down, refusing to answer any sort of questions about what was hidden in the metal box he kept on the topmost shelf in his closet. We all knew it contained a secret but of what nature?

There were fewer and fewer folks still alive who may have known first hand any of the details and they were of a generation that honored  personal privacy and of course loved and respected our father.  If his wish was to keep this information private then they would never divulge his secret.  

The answers were in the locked metal box that our father kept on the highest shelf in his closet.   Even as kids we didn’t talk much about it or wonder out loud what the box contained but it was more than curious.   Why the secrecy?   

As as teenager, when taking my father’s shirts into his closet,  I had gone so far as to take the metal box down from the shelf and feel the weight of it,  running my hands over it while I imagined details of?   a crime?   Or a scandal?  Something so horrible that it was forbidden.   Everyone who knew my father knew him to be generous to a fault, a gentle, kind and patiently loving man.

Even though decades had now passed and it really mattered less and less to anyone,  we all understood that the passing of our father meant the box was no longer protected,  it could be opened.   None of us knew what to expect but we all wanted to be present.  When I say all, I include close relatives as well as immediate family.

Most of the family was gathered in the living room,  every seat taken,  some sitting on the floor and lounging against the doorways.   Why should  this family still be in the grips of this mystery?  The whole extended family was here,  why was this becoming some kind of a circus show?

I had begun to feel very uncomfortable with this,  why not let this mystery remain as it has been,  the personal business of our father.   If this was my personal mystery that I had guarded for a lifetime, I’d want it to remain a secret!    

I cleared my throat and began to speak,  “I know we all are curious about “The Box”, we have been as long as I can remember,  but has everyone forgotten my father’s wishes?”   “Perhaps we should think more about this?”  

Everyone began to talk at once,  speaking over one another and making absolutely no sense.   

My oldest brother stood up and  without further discussion said,  “I have made a decision,  I wish to open this box in private,  I will then talk with my siblings to see if they agree with my determination about the contents of the box”.   

There were four sons and daughters who should be deciding,  the rest ,  well what could it possibly have to do with them?  

I felt relief that “the moment” had been delayed.  The half of me that wanted to know could wait a bit longer.  My brother took the box and left the room.

My brother was gone most of an hour.  The living room was filled with the noisy conversation of my relatives,  only a couple teens had become bored and gone off to play ball.  As my brother entered,  we all tried to gauge from his expression what he may be thinking.   I thought he looked calm but a little sad.  

“You may as well go on home everyone as I need to speak with my immediate family about this,  we will decide together what is best”.      

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding,  another delay,  I wondered then if we were meant to know this at all.

The disappointment was obvious as the group filed out of the room.  Gathering  up younger kids and possessions they went on home.

Our small group, my father’s children,  went into the dining room and sat around the dining room table.  My brother had arranged some papers and documents into several small piles.  He picked up the first.

The first thing he showed us was a very yellowed dog eared paper,  hand written in a careful,  clear and meaningful way.   

“The woman with this note gets the BOY”!  He read it out clearly.

Along with this note was a small blue piece of flannel from a very old receiving blanket and a small soiled crocheted bear.

The second things were two official looking adoption papers written in the way all legal papers were written and covered with signatures.  There appeared our father’s birth name and the names of his birth parents and the names of our Grandparents,  the ones adopting this baby.  As if this was not enough of a shock to us,  the papers also listed a baby girl, sister,  twin.  

In the third pile contained a group of legal papers regarding the birth parents.  

Both parents had been confined to the Work House for a few offenses including child abandonment,  unpaid debts,  and the like.   The children had been removed to state care.  The birth parents signed papers giving up all rights to the children.

Next,  a letter written by a state official explaining that it was the determination of the state of Ohio that the twin infants were being awarded to different couples,  separated, as the state did not want both to go to a Catholic couple or a Protestant couple,  and so would be awarded individually.

And finally a short note in our father’s hand saying he found his sister when they were twenty years old.  They met and laughed at how different they were and how the same.   She was killed in a car accident shortly after.

~~~~~

We sat in stunned silence.   My heart breaking for my Father.  He knew this for so long but since he had no understanding in his own heart about parents who could give away their babies,  parents so seemingly worthless to abandon infants,  how could he explain it to us?    I tried hard to imagine the hurt he must have felt to have been discarded as too much trouble or too big a bother.  Babies they were babies!

Maybe he even wondered if he had inherited the weakness or worthless nature of his birth parents.  It is a hard thing to understand in a family where we were all valued so highly.

This box contained a secret that was very personal,  it did not contain a scandal or police record or record of bad behavior or wrong doing.  It contained my father’s heart break, the heartbreak of  never understanding how anyone could part with their children.  How he could have been given away with just a signature on a document.

I wondered then about our  grandparents, both sets.  How could they have been so different,  the ones who had neglected infants and the ones who had rescued the unwanted and neglected babies.  I was choked with emotion and this had not happened to me but to our dear loving dad.

We began to fold the papers and put them back into the box.  The box would again 

be on a shelf somewhere in one of our homes.  Maybe this time it would be forgotten until no one remained who mattered.

My little brother,  by this I mean the youngest, as we were all approaching middle age, pushed the box lid closed before the papers were placed inside.   “Wait,” he said,  “Burn them all except the blanket piece and the bear,  whoever opens the box next will expect to find something,  that is enough,”.    

My oldest brother looked thoughtful....these are legal documents,  I will think on this awhile and we will talk again.  My sister reached out and took the small soiled bear saying,  “this guy needs a bath”!   

And so it was done.  The box containing the personal part of our father as a baby, the blanket piece and the soft clean bear, remains in the family,  and still very private.  The ones who needed to know finally knew.  

My oldest brother sealed away the legal documents, he wasn’t sure why but we all knew there was no scandal involved in this and perhaps those papers were necessary.

It explained so much now about the loving, caring man our father had been and how these hurtful secrets made him love and value his family all the more.