Bittersweet Revelation

An unsung song

Abigail peered around at the seemingly endless task that was set before her.

It had been two weeks since she had received the news that her father had died, and as his only heir, she stood in his house as the one who was responsible for removing his possessions so that the owner could replace him with a new tenant.

This was the last chore that she had to do, since the funeral was already over and she had closed his one bank account and collected the nearly ten dollars that it contained.

This is so just like him.

Of course he would leave this responsibility to me. Having to sort through all his things and most likely throw all or at least most of it away.

I shouldn’t feel like this. After all, he was my father.

Wait, why do I feel guilty? It’s not like he raised me. He was never there for me. I barely even knew him until I was already grown. No, he shouldn’t have left all of this to me.

The living room wasn’t so bad. Abigail had already boxed up the movies that he owned and posted the couch, television, and other living room furniture items for sale online.

She was almost finished in the kitchen, after emptying nearly every drawer and cabinet. She had not yet even entered his bedroom to see what tasks waited for her in there.

Once her work in the kitchen was complete, Abigail decided to enter the bedroom as that would most likely hold more items than the bathroom.

She wanted to know how much more work she was in for.

After opening the door, she was relieved. There was only a bed, a small dresser, and a night stand.

This shouldn’t take long.

She then went to open the closet door to see how much he had stored inside.

There were clothes hanging up, as she expected, and a chest on the floor that certainly contained more items that would need to be packed.

Abigail knelt down, opened the chest, and was amazed at what she saw.

The chest contained only a few items: a shoe box, a medium sized photo album, and a small leather journal.

Abigail had expected it to be full of souvenirs and trophies from her father’s self indulgent lifestyle.

He had spent his whole life as a musician, playing lead guitar in various bands and traveling on the road, pursuing the next gig.

She began with the photo album, opening the front cover to see pictures of her father and other musicians that he had once played with.

As she turned the pages, there were also pictures of the fronts of several bars and nightclubs, and when she saw her father again, he was in pictures with several different women that he had known.

Figures. I don’t see Mom in any of these. Well, she clearly didn’t rank high on the list or I might have actually seen him more than a few times when I was little. What kind of man chooses all of this over a family?

Continuing to turn the pages of the album, Abigail reached a page that was clearly different.

She saw her father and mother in a picture that was taken during a time that they clearly seemed to be happy and possibly, even in love.

There were more pictures of them on the next pages, and eventually, one of them holding a small baby. The next several pages contained pictures of a little girl growing up, from toddler age and continuing to teen age.

Abigail’s eyes began to burn and tears began to roll down her cheeks. She did not expect to see herself in this album, and it made her furious to think of how he had all these pictures but never bothered to show up.

Abigail put the album down inside the chest and picked up the shoe box.

She thought as she opened the lid about how it might be full of cigars, guitar picks, or maybe even matchbooks or napkins from the clubs.

As she saw what the box contained, she continued to cry, overcome by the anger and confusion that the thought of her father had always brought her.

The box contained guitar picks and cigars, but also a pacifier, a bottle, and a pair of tiny little pink shoes.

The sight of such things in her father’s chest was something she just did not even know how to process.

Wondering what else she would find, she then picked up the leather journal and opened the cover to the first page.

The contents came as no surprise.

The pages contained what seemed to be song lyrics.

Page after page revealed song after song, and after what she had previously seen, Abigail was not sure that she wanted to read any of the lyrics.

Pictures and baby relics couldn’t change the countless nights that Abigail had lay awake in her bed wondering why she was unwanted by her father.

Then, Abigail came upon a page that simply read, For Abigail.

The young woman’s heart skipped a beat and she considered whether or not she would turn the next page.

She was consumed with a mixture of excitement, dread, anger, curiosity, and another feeling she had not felt in so long.

It was the same feeling that she would have around her birthday and other special days, and the same feeling that always preceded the devastating disappointment that she would often face at those times.

It was the essence of a daughter’s love and the undying belief that this time would be different.

The letter on the next page contained the words of a man who knew that his time was short and was looking to get his affairs in order.

There was a simple apology for the burden that would be placed upon Abigail to manage his affairs after his death. It amazed her as she read the apology.

That’s what you’re sorry for!

There was no mention of his absence during her childhood, or even a single mention of Abigail’s mother.

The letter continued on as if it were his official memoirs: the story of his life on the road with different bands. Then to her surprise, the ending of the letter contained her name and a bequest in the last few sentences.

Abigail, I have hidden for you the money that I had saved back, which you will find in the greatest song I ever wrote, the one closest to my heart.

It was the song I never finished and the only one I never sung. The lyrics and the melody are there, but the harmonies and chords were never added.

It was no wonder that the only bank account she found of his had just a few dollars in it.

He must made a withdrawal before he died. Maybe she should have read those song lyrics more carefully.

Abigail returned to the beginning of the book and read each song lyric.

The songs were cryptic but seemed to have a common theme of dissatisfaction and pain.

There was no allusion to any money and there wasn’t any between any of the pages.

Thinking that maybe his favorite song was elsewhere, Abigail searched the bedroom and when she found a guitar case under the bed, she knew that this must be where he had stored this song.

Once she opened the case and lifted up the guitar, she realized that there was no great song or any money here.

Next she picked up the photo album and searched through it, looking behind each picture that represented her father’s life as a musician but there was nothing behind any of the pictures.

At that moment, it occurred to her that the owner of the house could have found the money that was meant for her.

As the frustration and derision of that possibility began to build up inside her, she returned to the shoe box and reached inside one of the tiny pink shoes.

She could feel something in the back, and as she pulled it out and examined the crumbled piece of paper, she saw that it was a cashier’s check made out to her in the amount of seventy seven thousand dollars.

Over the next two days, Abigail finished clearing out her father’s house.

The dishes and clothes were donated to charity, and she was easily able to sell the large pieces of furniture.

She took the chest for herself with all of its contents, along with her father’s guitar.

The possibilities of what she could do with the money he had left her were endless, and she had no idea what she would do.

It didn’t change the childhood memories of pain and rejection, nor did it change who her father was in Abigail’s mind. But in the tiniest way, healing had begun.

It was bittersweet, yet somewhat resolute to learn that he, at the very least, saw and acknowledged her value while in a subtle way, revealing the regret he harbored of missing out on being in his daughter’s life.

Another thought had begun to resonate within Abigail’s heart.

He had referred to her as a song, a symbol of the unquenchable passion that he had pursued his whole life, and the greatest one at that.

Abigail knew that it was the most sacred term of endearment that he knew how to bestow.

When the time to deposit the cashier’s check had come, Abigail had to endorse the check in the full form of her name that her father had made it out to.

Abigail Melody Bard

I hope you enjoyed this article! Thanks for reading!

Vince :)