I love trees. I always have. I always wanted to live in a house surrounded by lots of large, mature, beautiful trees. When we moved to our beautiful river property, my husband’s favorite feature was the river, but mine was all the gorgeous trees. I loved it! Now just because I love trees, don’t think I am a tree expert – I couldn’t tell you the difference between a maple tree and an elm tree but I just know I love trees.
One of our trees, a huge, strong tree by the river, was one of my favorites. I loved it so much that my husband attached a beautiful wooden swing to it so we could sit under its beautiful branches and swing while looking out over the river. Sadly, during one severe thunderstorm, lightning struck that tree, severing one of its biggest, strongest limbs. The limb supporting our swing. The next day, looking at all the damage from the storm, I saw what had happened to this beautiful tree. I felt sick looking at the horrible damage done to this tree. Irrevocable damage. The broken limb on the ground just lay there, never to grace the tree again. The stump of the branch still held the swing but was charred and it was clear that the tree suffered huge damage and would likely die due to the extent of the damage. Knowing I was upset, my husband got some tie down straps he kept in his truck, climbed up a ladder to reach the broken off, charred branch and made a tourniquet type wrap around the branch, just before where the damage started.
We didn’t know if it would work. We didn’t know if that gaping wound in the tree could be repaired. Could come together again after such horrible damage. We waited and watched. For quite a while, we didn’t see any improvement, any signs that the hard work he put in to repair it was doing any good. I began to think this was it for the tree. That the damage had been too extensive. Then one day, we noted something amazing – new life was growing out of the charred, damaged stump. A tiny, green branch was sprouting! It wasn’t very strong and it looked like it was barely hanging on, but it was there! Finally, a sign of life again! As time passed, more and more branches and leaves started sprouting off that tree that seemed to be too damaged to make it. The leaves on the surrounding branches, that had started to wither, got some of their color back! That thick branch was still able to support the swing and we once again were able to enjoy its strength and gift of shade and comfort!
Now that tree, it doesn’t look the same. The tree is not as beautiful as it once was. Maybe the tree feels sad that it no longer looks the same. It doesn’t look like all the other trees around it that have all their limbs intact. But maybe, just maybe that tree knows that it survived what could have/should have killed it and guess what? It made it. It won’t be the same. Won’t look the same. Has scars on it that show the trauma the storm caused. But do you know what? It is still standing. It hasn’t fallen into the river. It now gives shade again. It is a source of strength again to hold the swing. It is different than it was I bet it wishes it hadn’t had the experience it had. But, that tree, that tree made it. It survived.
When we have gatherings at our river, people stand under its shade and feel relief from the hot sun because of it. Bad days have improved when its strong branches allow me to swing in peace from it. It once again is a source of comfort.
Yesterday, as I was walking on our property, deeply mourning the loss of my daughter, feeling more hopeless, exhausted and heartsick as I had ever felt in my life, I stood under that very tree. I looked up at it and saw the awful scar from what it endured. This may sound silly, but that tree, that tree gave me hope.
My life feels like that tree. A huge storm just wrecked me. A searing pain like lightening tore through me, causing irrevocable damage. At times, I don’t know how I will stay standing. Just the thought of normal functioning seems way too much. My life, it will never look the same. I may never look the same. I will never be the same. The me from before that horrible phone call on September 2, 2024 to the me now feels completely different. And I hate that. But, looking up at that tree that day, I felt the tiniest spark of hope. I have hope that this deep severing in my own life will be bound by a wrap that can close this gaping wound in my life. Through the comfort of my dear family and friends, through the wise council of my grief therapist, through the acts of love through meals, groceries and flowers, through songs of promise and hope, through my faith, all these things, they wrap my heart, my soul, my broken heart. It aids in the oh so slow healing of the deep gap in my life, in my heart. I mourn that I will never be the same but find hope that a new me will emerge. I will one day be strong enough to support new life: new hopes, new dreams. I have hope that one day I can be a strength to others in grief, in pain. That they can rest under my strength when they have none of their own.
My life certainly does not look like how I pictured it. Definitely not how I wanted it to look. I could drive myself crazy in thinking about how this is not how I planned it, how unfair it is, how much the unfairness of this infuriates me…or, I can just sit with this grief. Allow myself time to both grieve and start to heal. Let the binds wrapped around me help me. Allow others to help me – even though receiving gracious gifts from others is oh so hard. Allow myself the time. Allow myself the grace I give others. Practice acts of self love. And wait. Know that my roots are deep and that I can survive this. I may emerge different than I was but I will still emerge. This is what I learned from my tree.
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Marcia, I love this story and love the analogy. I had the same thought to a flowering tree that we planted in memory of our daughter Nina, who was killed by a drunk driver now 30 years ago. Several years after this great loss of my then 15-year-old daughter, I wrote something about the tree we cherished so much and how following a severe thunderstorm, all the blossoms that covered the beautiful tree were blown off in the powerful windstorm, leaving the tree damaged and not nearly as beautiful. I had a similar analogy about that tree. It reminded me of your story. Thanks for sharing this hopeful story. And I am so very sorry about the tragic death of your own daughter. I hope you keep writing.
It’s so funny how life works. I have been asked to speak to my church community. For the pass week I have been contemplating what my subject matter will be. I have often clung to tree analogies and have actually planted a tree in my yard as remembrance for my Son. I truly enjoyed your article. It seems to have spoken directly to my heart. Thank you for sharing. I am so sorry for the loss of your beautiful daughter. AJs Mom Forever21