Paper Trails and Inheritance

In very early 2020, our biggest worries were massive increases to our freight and health insurance costs. Little did we know how much would change.

Today I received a signed copy of the Buyer/Seller Agreement – Summary of Terms for the sale of one of the last remaining assets of Tatsuda’s Supermarket Inc.

To say I’m excited is an understatement.

I’m excited for the buyer—someone with big dreams, a clear vision, and the discipline and dedication to make them real.

I’m excited for myself, because this is a shedding of responsibility I never fully wanted to carry.

And I’m excited because I know how proud my dad would be—to see this property pass to a young entrepreneur we helped get off the ground just a few years ago.

That part feels especially right.

Later today, I found myself going through a large box of files, looking for a specific piece of business information.

I found what I needed.

But I also found something else.

A treasure trove of whispers of my dad—in the way I knew him best.

Organized. Responsible. Intelligent. Brave.

An entrepreneur who kept multiple copies of almost everything.

File after file, filled with reports he had hand-dated and carefully filed.

Draft store designs from the early days of remodeling.

Sheets of paper covered in calculations—freight increases worked out in detail, the kind that could have impacted the business in real and scary ways.

Envelopes full of bank receipts, meticulously organized by year.

And so much more, stretching back decades.

I think the oldest document I came across was from 1997.

I knew my dad best through business.

And the way he showed up there—steady, thoughtful, disciplined—carried into the rest of his life.

But if I’m honest, the business was his life.

And today, for a little while, I got to spend time with him again.

Through documents.

Through signatures.

Through big decisions and careful calculations.

Through the quiet evidence of a man who carried so much, so diligently, for so long.

And I have a box of files I don't know what to do with, because I obviously can't throw any of them away.