The Great Tree (My Dad)...

The Great Tree

The tree has always been there

To me, at least

Never known a day without it

Looming large on that mighty bluff

Since I could remember

Weathering whatever the forces of nature hurled at it.

 

Don’t get me wrong

I’ve seen a branch fall a time or two or three

No tree ever grows impervious to the elements.

It’s taken its fair share of beatings over time

But it’s bounced back, that plucky tree.

 

He always bounced back, my dad.

 

Like that one stormy season in 2001

When he lost his job of 26 years

And worked like a dog mopping floors

At an old fruit stand on Rt 104

Driving bus part-time for Oswego Schools

Refereeing basketball games for 9^th graders

Picking up odd jobs to make ends meet.

Pulling together mere pittance for survival.

That’s my dad.

 

In 2014, a gale force bore down on him

Something fierce, tearing life from limb

Liver failure filling his abdomen with poison

Eating through every ring of life to his very core

I wasn’t sure the tree would survive this derecho

Many trees don’t, and the few left standing, 

aren’t for long.

 

At one point I saw him cracking badly

I didn’t know if he could withstand the thrashing

-Prayed he wouldn’t at one point-

Seeing him, shoulder down

Fighting against such an unfeeling foe

Was more than my eyes could take in

But he prevailed, against all odds,

Standing with a story to tell

The skies finally clearing, 

not without lingering carnage.

 

The last 8 years hasn’t seen another Nor'easter

With such deadly intent in its eyes,

But the tempests have battered the shoreline

Raking sand from its roots, grain by grain,

The bluff’s edge slowly eroding 

Toward the hoary tree, 

Scarcely noticeable to the naked eye,

Mother Nature vs. Father Time

Engaging in a dawdling cold war.

Trading water for sand—sand for water

 

The roots are all but exposed now 

It’s a wonder he’s still hanging on

The thinnest roots taut with little fight left

Clinging to last life.

It’s been strong for so long

It’s hard to believe, even now

It won’t dig deep and pull another feat of strength

This spring.

 

But this is no storm. 

 

Not the kind you board up the windows for

There’s not even a gust of wind or drop of rain

Just the eerie cadence of the surf below

Dealing its methodical hits

Measured body blows

Each cuff bludgeoning a vital organ

His face seemingly untouched

You wouldn’t suspect a thing

While the insides take a pounding.

Internal eyeing the eternal.

 

This is altogether different. 

 

And here I stand, helpless to save the tree

The tree I’ve always known, always loved.

The tree I’ve stared at, watched withstand anything

The tree I’ve climbed, hung from, laughed in

The tree I’ve hidden under waiting for the storm to pass.

 

The tree, a canopy of refreshing shade for me—for so many.

The tree, feeding our lives with fruit in every season.

The tree that’s always been there,

For me, at least.

 

I’ve never known life without this age-old giant.

 

This tree, casting a long shadow

Will soon and slowly fall toward the unforgiving sea

Plunging deep into the dark bowels of the tempest

For the first time, for the last time

Swallowed up, never to be seen again

Swept away from us.

 

The torn earth left behind will testify 

To the breadth and depth of its faithful station

What will fill this cruel crater?  

Whom could fill the violent void?

For there is only one tree for me.

Ever only one.  

 

Will I throw down so towering a tap root?

Will my branches sprawl to reach so vast an expanse?

Will my sap travel so effortlessly back and forth

Nourishing each needy extremity?

Who am I to be the tree just yet?  

Can it so soon be my time, my turn?

How does a branch become a tree?

 

How will I replace this mammoth man?

 

My Dad.  

My Tree.