One day, while living on the west coast, Jack received a call from his mother, still in New England.
"Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday," she told him.
Memories flashed in his mind like a movie trailer. He was speechless. He had almost forgotten about Mr. Belser.
"Right up until his death, he would ask about you every time I saw him," she added. "He liked to reminisce about the many days you spent on his side of the fence." She added, "After your father died, he stepped in to make sure you had a male influence in your life."
"I wouldn't be in the business at all if it weren't for him," Jack said. "I'll be there for the funeral." Mr. Belser taught Jack carpentry, among many other things.
During the flight home, Jack remembered how much he loved that old house Mr. Belser lived in. He also began thinking about his wife and children with whom he spent very little time.
The funeral was small and uneventful. Mr. Belser had no children of his own and very little family left.
Afterward, he and his mother visited the old house. Jack paused as he stood in the entryway. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every detail carefully preserved but with one exception. A small gold box that Mr. Belser always kept locked on top of his desk.
Jack must have asked a thousand times, "What's inside the box?" The answer was always the same "The thing I value most," the old man would say, and left it at that.
The box was gone. Now Jack would never know what was in the box.
Upon returning home, Jack received a package. It was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years before. The return address read "Mr. Harold Belser." Inside was a letter and the gold box.
His hands shaking, Jack opened the letter that read:
"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. Carefully, Jack unlocked the box. Inside was a beautiful gold pocket watch. Finely etched in the casing were the words, "Thanks for your time, Jack." - Harold Belser
Thank you for your time.
"Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday," she told him.
Memories flashed in his mind like a movie trailer. He was speechless. He had almost forgotten about Mr. Belser.
"Right up until his death, he would ask about you every time I saw him," she added. "He liked to reminisce about the many days you spent on his side of the fence." She added, "After your father died, he stepped in to make sure you had a male influence in your life."
"I wouldn't be in the business at all if it weren't for him," Jack said. "I'll be there for the funeral." Mr. Belser taught Jack carpentry, among many other things.
During the flight home, Jack remembered how much he loved that old house Mr. Belser lived in. He also began thinking about his wife and children with whom he spent very little time.
The funeral was small and uneventful. Mr. Belser had no children of his own and very little family left.
Afterward, he and his mother visited the old house. Jack paused as he stood in the entryway. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every detail carefully preserved but with one exception. A small gold box that Mr. Belser always kept locked on top of his desk.
Jack must have asked a thousand times, "What's inside the box?" The answer was always the same "The thing I value most," the old man would say, and left it at that.
The box was gone. Now Jack would never know what was in the box.
Upon returning home, Jack received a package. It was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years before. The return address read "Mr. Harold Belser." Inside was a letter and the gold box.
His hands shaking, Jack opened the letter that read:
"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. Carefully, Jack unlocked the box. Inside was a beautiful gold pocket watch. Finely etched in the casing were the words, "Thanks for your time, Jack." - Harold Belser
Thank you for your time.
So touching! A tear rolled down my face.
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