That is where his drawings live.

About four hundred sheets, rolled, in tubes, going back to 1968.

The deeds to that house.

My mother’s letters from before they married.

A shoebox with my school reports in it, which I did not know about until 2019 and which undid me for a while.

He died in 2019.

Pancreatic, seven weeks, at seventy-three.

He left me the house.