
A Gift of Treasures
Fred’s heart lurched to his throat at the phone’s shrill ring. Who but his beloved Sofia would call so late? Persuading himself she’d lost track of time, he clutched that belief to his chest until the policeman’s words destroyed his illusion. His legs turned to water and he sat down hard, still gripping the telephone.
One-word answers were all he had for the officer. Yes, she’d taken the noon ferry. No, she had not come home. Yes, he’d expected to hear from her hours ago. And … yes, he had been watching the news about the ferry accident.
For shopping and lunch with friends, his gregarious Sofia had worn a dress with large splashy flowers, had taken her big enthusiastic laugh, and a huge heart brimming with kindness. She needed gifts for the neighbor’s sweet baby due next month and for their niece’s wedding in two weeks. A good visit with her two best friends from school would make her day complete.
Over the years, the three childhood chums laughed and cried together through marriages, childbirth, and family hardships. Now he imagined them sitting around a white table at the beach, holding wine glasses aloft in an eternal toast to friendship.
Without meaning to, Sofia had abandoned him.
Many days later, Fred’s two sons helped him sort through pictures before going home to their own families. They’d pick him up in the morning before the service, and the three of them would pin the snapshots onto the funeral home’s cloth boards for mourners to scrutinize as they filed past with their empty words meant to comfort.
He fingered the edges of the gold-leaf frame holding Sofia’s portrait. The one to be displayed in lieu of a casket. Taken a few years ago, she smiled with smooth, posed features that failed to express her energy, her vitality. Just as well. Those memories were his to claim.
He fisted his hands and resisted the urge to hurl the picture against the wall.
Fred flipped through the piles of photographs and chose one with the three schoolgirls — age nine or ten, he supposed. Arms flung over each other’s shoulders, Sofia in the middle squinting in the sunlight. The second choice was of Fred and Sofia with their small boys holding their golden retriever’s head still for the camera. And the last one pictured the two of them on their wedding day feeding each other dainty bites of cake. As soon as the picture had been snapped, she’d shoved a large piece into his face and they had both brayed with laughter.
He plodded to their bedroom, opened her dresser drawer, and found the pretty shawl he’d given her last Christmas. Azure blue cashmere, soft as a whisper. She’d worn it to church and when he took her out for a fancy dinner — no special occasion — just to celebrate his unending love for her.
As he carried the shawl back to the front room where he’d stacked the photographs, he slipped off his wedding ring. He wrapped it and the three snapshots into the blue garment and folded the ends to the middle. From her sewing box, he selected a length of yellowed lace, rolled the shawl into a tight bundle, and securely tied the lace around the treasures.
The old Ford lumbered along the route they had traveled together on the way to the ferry. The ocean came into view, grayish-green on this somber, overcast day, and he pulled over to park, picked up his hat from the seat, and jammed it onto his head. Slogging through the sand, he kicked off his shoes, clamped the package under one arm, and stooped to roll up his pant legs.
Fred continued to the water’s edge, watching the waves ebb and flow, and a peace came over him, calming his heart. He cast his gift to her into the water as the surf pulled away, and the azure blue bundle with the precious memories was engulfed and carried out to sea. This was his goodbye. Not tomorrow’s solemn ritual.
He raised the hat from his head and tipped it toward the waves in tribute to a life well lived.
