Treasures

arrived yesterday in the mail: The leftovers of my fathers gorgeous and complete stamp collection of Germany. The main album of the stamps on black paper and described by hand with white ink was a piece of art and was sold in the early eighties when my parents were in much need of money. It must have been a major blow to his heart. He had been collecting since he was 16. He then started another more "light" collection, called Art in Stamps. Equally beautifully made and that went to my little niece, when my mother died. I hope she enjoys it.
For me the hours when my father was quietly working on his stamps belong to the few positive memories that I have of him. He was a difficult man who did not make our childhood easy. But when I now sit at my big table, one candle burning on the Advent wreath and try to assort all these treasures, that came stacked in envelopes, showing his neat handwriting, I feel close to him.
And what came yesterday, were real treasures. Stamps were once collected with the hind thought of having something of real value, that could be sold (as it was in 1982) , but nowadays it is a dying hobby and there are hardly any serious collectors out there. Only never hinged or new stamps are worth something, maybe half of the value in the catalogues. Kind of hard to get when you look at these small antique pieces, dating from the early 18 hundreds. But look at the picture: unused from 1946, printed by the occupation forces (UK and US) .
And one other big surprise was in that package for me: Postcards and letters from 1945, by which my family members tried to find out whether the rest was alive and well. Even a postcard out of a prisoner of war camp sent by my Godfather who was merely a kid when he was drafted. He died in the Nineties...
I feel grateful for this gift.
And it is a great thing to do on a grey, cold and wet day.