Insignificant Object: Tiger Paperweight

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Item #: 180773345550

Original Price: 1.99
Author bought it from a second hand store.

               I will never forget that last letter from my little brother, and that seemingly useless gift that is now my most cherished object.

It seemed like just yesterday we were playing out in the backyard having fun. It was when I was happy. He always went on and on about going to war and making a name for himself, I clearly remember the day he turned eighteen. My parents and him agued all night. When I woke from the dreadful sleep, he was gone. No goodbye. No “love you” I was only twenty-one and that is still the most devastating day of my life.

            Over the next two years he sent letters every now and then to my parents, but never to me. I moved out and started a farm in a rural area in Alberta with my wife and a baby on the way. I thought about my brother every morning, remembering no goodbye.

            Then the day came that I received a parcel in the mail. The date was April 5, 1943. It was from my brother. I recall going home but not opening the package. I tried to open it but just couldn’t. I just put it on the table and stared at it for hours wondering what it was and why he sent me a package three years after he left. I had to wait until my wife came home with the baby so she could open it.

            “Oh, I see somebody has sent you something?”

            That sentence kept re-playing in my head. I was glad she opened for me, considering I was going to throw it out. Inside was a short letter and a little red paperweight that looked like a tiger . I told my wife that we should throw it out because we had no use for a cheap paperweight, and I stormed out of the room without reading the letter.

            The next morning I awoke to an empty bed and the strong smell of coffee. When I walked into the kitchen my wife was sitting at the table with the opened letter on the table.

            “Your brother is coming back next week! They have the Germans on the run.” I poured myself a coffee as she continued, “he wants you to pick him up at the train station. He’s very exited to see you.”

            I waited and waited that day, but he never came. Many other soldiers showed up, but no Mark. Was he late? Was he on the next train? A General approached me, “are you waiting for Mark?”

            “Yes, he is my little brother,” I said.

            “I am sorry, he didn’t make it back.”

            I clenched the paperweight in my jacket pocket as I held back tears. This tiny insignificant paperweight was all I had left of my little brother