Rest in Peace my Sweet Friend

It was the summer of 2009 on a Sunday afternoon and I was hiking though Valley Green before heading to meet a guy I had just started dating.

I was taking a trail I usually approached from the other way so even though the path wasn’t new the way I saw it certainly was. Funny how that happens.

Anyways, that’s when we met. My sweet tree and I.

By approaching the way I did I was able to see her big thick, wild roots and I basically stopped in my tracks as I marveled at her beauty.

I promptly sat on her welcoming seat and so our friendship began.

Over the years I would always visit her, bringing friends sometimes to meet her but mostly just solo. For the longest time every time I found her I would get so excited and run up like a little kid.

There was even this really beautiful moment I experienced a huge heart opening in her presence. Tears of joy sprung from my eyes as I realized that love is Universal and to feel it is a gift that is inside of each of us and doesn’t actually have anything to do with anyone else.

If you can’t tell, I love this tree with my whole heart. I even got her tattooed on my arm six years ago.

And I don’t care if you may think this is impractical or silly or just plain weird.

I consider myself lucky and blessed that I am open enough to experience love in more forms than just with another person or animal. There are so many. To limit yourself is really an act of cruelty.

But this post isn’t just about how much I love my tree friend.

This post is a memorial.

Because on Sunday as I made my way through the green goodness that is the Wissahickon hoping for a quick hike I once again was stopped dead in my tracks.

But this time it was because my tree friend had fallen. She was knocked down by another big ass tree above her, ripping her powerful roots right from their neatly nestled perch overlooking the water.

I ran up to her and as fat wet tears drizzled down my face in a parade of shock, panic and grief. I sat on her newly placed trunk and just cried and spoke to her as you would a person.

People walked by and I didn’t care. I was heartbroken. They ignored me probably thinking I was upset about something else.

I mean I’ve walked past tons of fallen trees and it’s just the way of nature. But this one was different.

The next day my fiance’ and I went back to see her and I took some of her roots and dirt.

And in that moment I realized how much her death mirrors my life.

My sweet tree is not gone. She will remain in those woods hopefully forever. She has just changed her formation. And this is super painful, but change often is. Because we cling to what we know and what we want so tightly that sometimes it’s hard to realize that we can change with the change. 

This feels like a summation of my life over the past 2 years of opening my relationship.

Change was nipping at our heels and our hearts, wanting things to remain exactly how they’ve always been but knowing that just can’t be.

It’s so easy to think you can control your relationships and preserve them so they will be exactly how you want them to be, always.

But we humans evolve so of course our relationships do to and we have a choice.

We can evolve with them which means they will most likely look different over time or we can cling to how they were and watch at they pass us by.

My tree may not be upright and her leaves may never return and I know that there is a chance her trunk could be cut to make space for the trail ( a fact I am strongly intending doesn’t happen) but that doesn’t mean my relationship with her is over. It’s not. It’s just the beginning of a new way of relating to her. 

And I know this because still she is teaching me so much.

So this blog is dedicated to my sweet friend. May you be safe and protected in your forest home. Thank you for all you’ve taught me and will continue to teach me about love and life and relationships.

I hope we can relate in this new way. I’m willing to change with you.