A Gift for Dan

I didn’t like Dan Case the first time I met him. He clearly doted on my sister, but there was something about him that made me uncertain. I perceived him as arrogant, but over time, I came to see him differently. I came to see the real Dan. I came to see him as a man who cared deeply and loved big, especially with my sister. They eventually married and he became a permanent part of my family. We all came to love Dan Case.

In early December of 2014, Dan was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and the effects of the cancer and the necessary treatments hit Dan quickly. Over a period of months he changed from a bold, dynamic man to someone who couldn’t get out of bed. Following several hospitalizations and a brief stay in a full-time care facility, Barbra brought Dan home for the duration of his illness. It was the summer of 2015. Barbra was trying to balance caring for Dan with normal daily tasks. She was also working full-time in her floral design business while trying to negotiate its sale. She was exhausted and Dan was bored at home. I was able to visit him in their home every few weeks during the summer and early fall. We spent the afternoons discussing politics, good food, family, travel, and horses. Dan, and his family, raised racehorses and ran them at Remington Park. He loved to talk about horses. 

He continued to ponder future events and planned things he was going to do in the coming months and years. Only on a rare occasion did he indicate any acceptance of his predictable death. On one visit, our discussion turned to my upcoming trip to the United Kingdom. We talked about how exciting it would be to be surrounded by such history. Dan asked me to get his wallet off the dresser. He thumbed through it and handed me $200 in cash. He told me to bring him something from my trip. He wanted something old. He suggested a coin. Actually, he mentioned a coin several times, but he told me to surprise him. I promised I would find just the right thing.  

Dan died the next week. We threw ourselves into grieving and navigating the new normal as the departure date for my trip neared. I asked Barbra if she wanted me to use Dan’s money to buy his surprise gift or if she wanted it returned. She instructed me to buy Dan’s gift. So I tucked the bills into a separate section of my wallet and reaffirmed my intention to find the perfect gift for Dan; a remembrance gift.

The little stash of money was never far from my mind as I walked the streets of London and browsed the local shops of the Lake District. Nothing stood out or spoke to me. I stopped in multiple shops in Inverness with the sole purpose of finding the right gift for Dan. I held many items in my hands, but nothing resonated. I came up empty every time. There were a few moments when I was afraid I would not find exactly what he and I had discussed. But I quickly pushed such thoughts out of my mind and stayed focused on remaining open to the gift finding me.

After Inverness, I traveled to the Isle of Skye where tourist shops were almost nonexistent. In Broadford, I passed by a small metal building set in a parking lot in the middle of town. The sign on the building read, "Antiques, Bric-a-Brac & Curios". I pulled in and parked. As I walked up to the door, my steps crunching on gravel, I was greeted by a friendly black cat. This place had good energy. Maybe I would find Dan’s gift here. As I stepped into the store I chuckled to myself. Every surface was covered with treasures, knick knacks, and antiques. There was a narrow path that meandered among the possibilities. I looked carefully, but nothing stood out. Maybe I needed to look more closely. I circled back through the maze of jewelry, small furniture pieces, and pottery. I picked up a Beatrix Potter piece for a gift and a brooch of sterling silver with a beautiful black stone for myself, but nothing for Dan. The next stop on my trip was Edinburgh. 

I spent my first morning in Edinburgh dodging the rain and visiting traditional stops: St. Giles Cathedral, the Grassmarket, and Edinburgh Castle. After leaving the castle, I started the long walk toward my hotel. As I strolled down the Royal Mile, I glanced across to the other side of the street and my gaze was drawn to a small shop snuggled in a row of mismatched buildings. I really can’t say what drew me to the shop, but I felt an insistent need to stop.

The sign above the front window read, "Royal Mile Curios, established 1875" and I crossed the street to see what treasures were on display. As I stared through the glass, a medallion stood out among the exquisite jewelry and antique coins. The medallion looked to be silver and "For Best Foal" was engraved on one side. I caught my breath! This might be it! My hands shook slightly as I opened the heavy door and entered the tiny shop. I approached the counter and was greeted by an elderly Scotsman wearing a lovely wool suit complete with a vest and bow tie. I asked if I could see the medallion in the window….the one with the "best foal" engraving. The distinguished looking gentleman retrieved it and carefully laid it on the counter. It was secured in a smooth leather case. He explained, as he opened the case, that he also had its original velvet bag. He took the medallion out of the case and handed it to me. When the cool metal touched my skin, I felt a tingle of energy run through my hand. I turned it over and read the inscription, “For Best Foal, 1886”. My whole body trembled. I looked at the price and with a quick mental conversion from pounds to dollars, I realized the price was just under $200.

So there I stood, turning the medallion over in my hands, reading the engraving over again and again. I couldn’t believe it was real. Tears quietly ran down my cheeks, my legs felt weak, and my hands continued to shake. The kind man behind the counter said in his heavy Scottish brogue, “I am not going to ask, but this is obviously important to you.” I nodded and stammered, “It is. It is perfect.”  

The price of the coin was almost exactly the amount Dan had given me. It was old, just as Dan had wanted. It was a type of coin, just as Dan had mentioned. It was engraved with a horse, which represented Dan perfectly. This was exactly the item which I had been seeking.

The dapper gentleman carefully placed the medallion into the leather case and slipped the case into the velvet bag. I wiped my tears, retrieved Dan's cash, and paid for my prized purchase. I then slipped it into my purse along with the change. 

As I exited onto the bustling High Street, I was a bundle of mixed emotions. I was excited that after weeks of traipsing about England and Scotland….searching through antique stores and curio shops…..wondering if I would find the perfect item….I had found it! I also realized I was grieving for Dan. I wanted desperately to take this purchase home to him. I could only imagine what he would have said....what his expression would have been. I could only imagine the conversations we would have had about how I found his perfect gift.

I carried Dan’s horse medallion in my purse for the remainder of my trip, not trusting its safety in my luggage. It accompanied me through the streets of Liverpool, into the Welsh mountains of Snowdonia, and across the English countryside of the Jurassic Coast. At long last, I brought it home and presented it to my sister, Barbra. The exchange was a mix of emotions: tears of grief, hugs of joy, and exclamations of amazement about the appropriateness of the medallion. We both agreed that Dan would have loved it. It really was the perfect gift. And, without a doubt, I did not find it....it found me!