Yesterday, a large elm was removed from the yard next door. There is a blue hole in the canopy of green that has surrounded our yard since long before any of us were alive. The hole is so new it's hard to see it as anything but a jarring rent in the fabric of our life. It hasn't yet filled with the possibilities that couldn't exist before without the light prevented passage by the dense foliage of the once healthy tree.
Loss is like that blue hole. It takes time for the eyes of the heart to adjust themselves to the blinding light let in when a part of our world is ripped away. Yet while our eyes are adjusting, seeds sown, sometimes long ago, have a chance to grow because of the new light. Their growth dependent on the loss of others. And in that thought lies our best hope for the future; someday we will see beauty again.
The Life of a Doting Grandmother
11 years ago
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2 comments:
what a completely accurate and observant description of what happens when a tree goes down. it's a horrible experience, but most of us can't even say why, other than "i miss that old elm next door."
when my friend sarah died, i decided i was never, ever going to let myself smile again. i don't know how long that lasted, but several months, i think. then the smiles just started sneaking back in when i wasn't on guard.
I miss elm trees too. I thought they were all gone in the Twin Cities. I see them from time to time over here and there are loads of 'em in Hungary. I remember the 70's when all the elms big elms left including the one near the front door of our old place in NE Mpls. Whole cities went from leafy to sunny in just a few short years. The elms with their upstretched branches use to remind me of cathedrals as they lined the avenues.
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