My Two Cents

by Michele Tester

An interesting thing happened to me while I was trying to think of a topic to write about for my column this month.

As I was going through my mail one afternoon, I saw an envelope with my name and address handwritten on the front. I didn’t recognize the return address. It piqued my interest. It was a typed letter to me from a man introducing himself from an estate downsizing company, explaining that he had been recently hired to clean out this individual’s condominium, who had passed away in January. Reading the name of the individual, I almost fell over. It was my godfather, who I had not seen in over 20 years.

The letter went on to say that while cleaning out the condominium, he found a very old framed historical painting of a British officer. On the back of the painting was a note that the painting was to be given to me. He ended the letter asking if I would like the painting, and if so, he would be happy to make arrangements to get it to me. If I didn’t want it, he could donate it to the organization of my choice.
I have to say that I was skeptical at first. I mean, it definitely was my godfather’s name, but I didn’t recognize the name of the person he mentioned who hired him to clean out the condo.

I decided to do some research. I researched the company he mentioned in the letter, which was legit. Then, I searched for my godfather’s obituary. My godmother’s came up first (she passed away in 2017). While I was reading the obituary, I noticed my godmother’s sister’s name, which was the name mentioned in the letter as the person who hired him.

My godparents were not blood family, but as a child, I called them Aunt and Uncle. My godmother grew up with my mother. They were wonderful people, and always so good to me. They couldn’t have children of their own, so they doted on their nieces and nephews…and me. I have such fond memories of them. I always looked up to them for the good, kind people they were and for the marriage they had. My Uncle Don worshipped the ground my Aunt Jeannette walked on. I could just tell, even as a child, how much they loved each other. I don’t think they ever spent a night apart!

I decided to reach out by email to the man who sent me the letter. I explained who I was, that I had received the letter, and that, yes, I definitely would take the painting. He responded pretty quickly, stating that he was so happy that I was going to take it. This struck me as odd. Who wouldn’t take something that someone took the time to put a note on the back saying they wanted it to go to you?

We set up a place and a time to meet. My husband and I drove to meet him on a Saturday morning. We ended up talking for over 20 minutes. He conveyed to me that it “warms his heart” that I responded and actually wanted the item. Again, I was surprised. He told me that most people say they don’t want the item, that they have enough clutter. I told him that even if it was the ugliest thing, I would still take it because my godfather wanted me to have it. It was important to him. I bet that note was on the back of that painting for decades. My Uncle Don was a meticulous person, organized to a fault.

I bet you’re wondering why my godfather would mark this particular painting to be given to me. I am wondering the same thing. I’m still trying to figure it out. I do know this…as soon as I saw the huge painting (it’s big!), it looked very familiar to me. A hazy remembrance crossed my mind, but I just couldn’t grasp it. Maybe I saw it hanging in their house when I was young. Maybe I thought it was cool. Maybe my Uncle Don told me a story about it. I believe it will come to me eventually. I’m just honored he thought of me. I’m now thinking that I may put notes on all the things I want to go to certain loved ones. But maybe I’ll include the “why.”
That’s just my two cents.