The Mighty Oak

All trees are important - holding together both the sky and the ground - wrapping us up in their embrace – merging elements into the thing we call Earth. All the while protecting us from the all-powerful sun. Even the little ones, who focus more on our feet than our crown, shelter and stabilize us in their own dainty ways. But no tree envelops us more than the mighty oak. Always striving to become a circle, roots reaching for branches reaching for roots. The oak – it probably loves us best. 

This year, my family lost an oak. A person who defined us, shaped us, was both the past and the future - standing above and kneeling below. With her loss, we are left exposed, having never realized that the sun was so bright and so blinding. Shifting perspective on all things in our seemingly understood world – Without her shadow, new things come into light in the briars – some beautiful & fresh and some we never wanted to see. 

The creatures who once called her home – the birds, the ants, the lichens, things much smaller, but just as alive, they come to us –  guests with no invite seeking shelter. These foundlings bring unfamiliar sensations – an extraneous weight on our limbs, tingling on our leaves,  biting, pecking and boring into our skin, into our strengths and weaknesses.  We must hold them now for we are left at the forest floor with all the responsibility of our oak’s legacy. In time, we will be able to choose what to carry and what to evict. But first, this process moves forward without our consent.

With her passing, space is created. There is room for us to grow in new ways and to reach out to the other trees in our forest. We are free to create new structures, new connections, to redesign the canopy. In unison, the sun and the earth shout a message –  you must prepare to be the next mighty oak!

That future is not yet here. We are too small and too frail for this job. We must grow, which will take time –  painful, painful time. As our oak knew, growing is hard and not without a cost. It takes energy and sacrifice. 

Our oak was not a perfect tree. In her life, she faced struggle and disease. Her limbs did not always grow in perfect balance. Her shade, not always even. Some days our oak scuffled with the wind just to stand. Under her protection, it was easy to look up and think of how she might have grown in other or more perfect ways. 

Our oak was strong, battle-tested, scars covering scars covering scars. Some visible, shared with us, and some only hers. Scars she hid deep in her core to shield us from how hard life really is. Without her here, we are left alone to face the sharp ax of reality – it was never easy to be a mighty oak. 

While our oak has left the touchable sky, she has shaped us and our forest. Below us, she will always remain. We grow both up and down on the paths she weaved, forever nourished by her roots, breathing always the air she exhaled.

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