Mourning a Willow Tree

Grief need not be reserved for only our human relatives.

I have a routine path that I walk in my neighborhood.

Quiet streets, quaint houses, and vibrant tree cover.

Oaks, maples, and conifers.

And of course, a willow tree.

I walked past Her in awe every time.

The kind of tree that demands that you stop and stare.

As if to prostrate yourself in reverence.

She had to be close to 200 years old.

She towered above me, and her canopy draped across the boulevard with such grace.

I looked forward to gazing upon her every time I went on this walk.

Perhaps she was the landmark that has kept me rooted to this specific path.

And still does.

At night, too, she had an aethereal glow.

Yes, had is the proper word.

For upon one evening, on this very same walk, expecting it to be as if any other…

I came upon the place where I expected her to be, only to find she was gone.

GONE.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

I had to pause and ask myself if I was even in the right place.

“This can’t be,” I said to myself.

I was in a partial stupor.

But sure enough, I stood exactly where she stood.

Proud, in her wisdom and grace.

Rooted in her gentleness.

Poised in her tranquility.

Planted in peace.

As if she had been a watcher of this land and place for longer than can be fathomed.

And yet even in grace, tranquility, and peace, she could not escape death.

And so I stood and took it in for a moment.

I felt a deep grief enter my being.

I spoke to her spirit, I said thank you for gracing this place with your presence, and for appearing along my trajectory.

Thank you for the gift of your majesty.

Thank you for your oxygen.

And as the moment passed, and I continue walking, I notice a thought to the effect of, “how strange to feel grief for a tree.”

Yet, is it that strange?

Or perhaps stranger still that it has become so much the norm to NOT grieve with nature.

That in our perceived separation and isolation, we look upon her as minimally as ‘raw materials’ and ‘natural resources.’

How different when we perceive in right relation with her.

That it is not strange to grieve a tree, because she is not simply ‘a tree.’

She is so much more than that.

Supreme in her bounty and abundance.

Sentient consciousness materialized in a highly specific form.

Intrinsically essential to our ecosystem.

Seen in that light, your heart opens to be able to grieve with your relatives of nature.

So now, every time I take this walk, I take a moment to direct my attention to where she stood.

Sometimes I lay down a direct prayer.

Sometimes just a breath.

Always with gratitude.

Connecting with her spirit, and remembering, as if I would any other relative…