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Awake and unaware. Medications have taken over my ability to be aware. I will muddle through another evening that may or may not continue into the wee hours’ pre-sunrise.
I remember today. I remember yesterday. Beyond that, I cannot remember a thing without creating a pounding headache in my obsessive need to know. Don’t ask me to remember what I ate yesterday or the day before. Chances are, I don’t remember.
I do remember sitting beneath the canopy of a tree that had stood for 20+ years, feeding the sparrows and jays, feeling the breeze that kissed my cheeks and the day was splendid. The temperature was normal for this time of the year, with low humidity. It made for a clear blue sky with the occasional puffy cloud, and the feeling of rightness. The coffee was fresh and the added hazelnut creamer made it a treat. The warmth of the liquid settled on my tongue with a sweet and honey-like flavor before running down my throat. Some things are worth the awareness. Some things are worth remembering.
Yesterday, I watched them dismantle that beautiful tree branch by branch as I stood in the doorway crying for her loss. She stood up to major winds that came with these summer storms and she never complained, until recently. You see, she was splitting in two through her trunk and it was becoming larger by the day. We had to take her down.
I was aware of every cut they made and how noble she seemed, standing there with such dignity and pride. I fell away into a fog of despair and helplessness, knowing this was the right thing to do but wanted her to remain a little longer. I will miss her.
It looks barren where she once extended her presence over the decking and outward over a section of the ground below. Now, there is an emptiness inside of me that is equal to the emptiness where she once stood.
Today, my joy was difficult to find. Grandchildren filled the rooms and kept me smiling. How blessed I am for my grandchildren. However, the sun was loud and angry – the air was humid and hot where once it could not reach me. Inside my home, air-conditioner and fans spinning, I was still overcome by that overbearing heat and humidity. Muscles ached and I became exhausted after a small bit of work indoors. My head was spinning and I was irritable and unsteady. How does a person go from pure joy to such sadness and then into physical chaos?
The children were picked up and I slept for several hours in a blackened room with the fan humming as it attempted to mock the breezes, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing will ever be the same again.
My body hurts. It comes and goes. Sometimes with the weather changes, sometimes with the stress… in this case I believe I am having a moment of empathy for her, out there lying on her side and pieces cut for future fires. I managed to talk them into cutting wheels from the larger branches and trunk so I can sand them smooth, paint memories upon them, glaze them and then share them or sell them. I will keep quite a few of them for myself.
No one understands my depression and melancholy. I’ve lost my beloved friend. The loss is almost too much to bear and the consequence of losing her blessed shade upon the back of our house is a stark and cruel reminder.
I can hear sirens in the distance. Perhaps they are on their way to save a soul or to save memories contained within the walls of burning home. Sirens are a foreboding sound. Nothing will be the same.
That’s it! A soul has been taken from me and I am the burning house trying to salvage the memories contained within the walls of my mind. The heat of the day was the fire that burned but there were no sirens and no one was aware that there was a loss out there and a bigger loss inside of me.
I wonder. Does anyone else feel such love for a tree that I had for her? Do others feel the love returned to them emanating from within her bark? Do other people mourn the loss of trees as they would mourn the loss of a loved one? I wonder how long it will hurt, this feeling inside of me, and when will I be able to let go of the memories?
It’s odd how experiences such as these can affect us so profoundly. Yet, they do and we have no coping skills for these types of losses. Silly, that is what they would think of me if I were to tell them just how deep each cut was felt inside of me. Then, to see that she stood strong against such heavy winds with less than three inches of good wood encircling her trunk while the center was nothing but sawdust. I loved her even more for standing strong despite her disease and that weakness within that she must have felt. I am a shell of a woman standing strong against what life throws at me and I will not allow my disease nor my hollowed interior weaken me and allow me to fall.
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She and I had a lot in common. No wonder I could empath her so well and I believe she could empath me. I will go on until there is no more of me to continue. I will be aware in the moment but I may have some difficulty in remembering. Memories are for those who no longer live a life, they sustain themselves reminiscing and reliving moments like this. I am still alive and all my capacities are working fine. Perhaps I don’t remember the details but I can certainly continue to appreciate each moment as it comes and retain what I need then dispose of the rest.
What did you have for lunch last week on Wednesday? And, what kept you awake last Sunday night?
What is keeping you awake now? What thoughts, random as they seem, are keeping you company?
M TERESA CLAYTON
