Under Lock & Key

        There was always one cabinet in Grandfather’s house that I never saw anyone open.  Gramps kept it locked and ignored it 100% of the time.  No one even talked about it.  It just sat there the entire time us kids were growing up.

        Only when we were older did I ever hear anyone talk about it.  They speculated as to what might be in it, but then the conversation would drift off to something else and there it would sit for a few more years.

        When we were called back for the funeral, it was the first time in a long time many of us had seen each other.  By that time there were not many older relatives left.  His wake was held in his living room, and the house was once again filled with the voices of friends and neighbors and the wonderful scent of about 12 casseroles.  There wasn’t anyone who didn’t love gramps.

        After everyone had paid their respects, the casket lid was lowered, and it was carried out to the awaiting procession of cars.  The old stories had stopped; the smiles had faded and everyone quietly filed out the front door.

        The minister noticed me looking back into the living room as I left.  He smiled at me and asked, “Are you looking at that cabinet?”

        “Yes, in fact, I was.”

        “It was in his final instructions that I slip the key into the casket just before I close the lid.  I guess he just didn’t want it opened.”

 

     

        ZC