CARVING MY INITIALS INTO THE TREE OF LIFE(George Petrie) “CARVING MY INITIALS INTO THE TREE OF LIFE”
GEORGE PETRIE


I WOULD SIT ON THE ROCKS AT THE EDGE OF THE BROOK. SOMETIMES, WHEN THE WEATHER WAS WARM, I WOULD DANGLE MY FEET IN THE ALWAYS FRIGID WATER AND WATCH AS IT RIPPLED AND FLOWED OVER AND AROUND MY TOES. I WAS CHANGING THE COURSE OF THE STREAM, EVER SO SLIGHTLY, AND IT ALWAYS AMAZED ME HOW RELENTLESS THE WATER COURSED DOWN, OVER THE ROCKS HEADING FOR SOME MYSTERIOUS DESTINATION. “DO YOU SUPPOSE IT GOES ALL THE WAY TO THE OCEAN?” I WOULD ASK MYSELF.

MY “FISHING POLE” WAS REALLY JUST A LONG THIN BRANCH THAT I HAD FOUND. THE FISHING LINE WAS SOME WIRE THAT I HAD FOUND IN DAD’S GARAGE AND THE HOOK WAS AN OLD SAFETY PIN. THE BAIT DIDN’T REALLY MATTER BECAUSE, EVEN THOUGH I HAD SEEN A FEW FISH FROM TIME TO TIME, THE OBJECT WASN’T REALLY TO CATCH ONE. FIRST OF ALL I KNEW I WOULD JUST THROW IT BACK IN IF I MANAGED TO SNAG ONE AND THE “FISHING POLE” WAS JUST MY WAY OF COMMUNICATING A MESSAGE. IT WAS TO CONVEY (PROBABLY ONLY TO MYSELF) THAT I WAS THERE FOR A SPECIFIC REASON.

MY REAL REASON FOR BEING THERE WAS BECAUSE IT WAS MY PRIVATE, SPECIAL SPOT. IT WAS ONLY ABOUT AN EIGHTH OF A MILE FROM THE HOUSE BUT, SINCE IT WAS NESTLED IN THE WOODS, THERE WAS A WANDERING PATH TO GET THERE WHICH MADE IT SEEM LIKE A LONG WAY FROM EVERYTHING.

IT WAS ALWAYS QUIET THERE, EXCEPT FOR THE SOUND OF THE WATER RUSHING OVER THE ROCKS AND THE TRILL OF DIFFERENT BIRDS. SOMETIMES IN THE HEAT OF SUMMER THE BIRDS WOULD BE JOINED IN CHORUS BY THE HUM OF CICADAS. ONE OF THE THOUGHTS THAT I OFTEN HAD WAS WHETHER OR NOT THIS THRUMMING AND WARBLING WAS A METHOD OF COMMUNICATION OR JUST A MINI-SYMPHONY THAT NATURE HAD CREATED TO FRAME THIS BEAUTIFUL SPOT. SOMETIMES A SCENE REQUIRES MUSIC TO TRULY CONVEY ITS BEAUTY AND THIS “ACCOMPANIMENT” JUST MADE ME LOVE THE SPOT EVEN MORE.

THIS WAS A PLACE WHERE I COULD GET LOST IN MY THOUGHTS, FREE FROM WORRY AND FREE FROM ANYTHING OTHER THAN THE EXACT MOMENT THAT I WAS IN. I’M NOT SURE WHAT I USED TO THINK ABOUT WHEN I SAT THERE. SO MANY THINGS, I’M SURE, BUT ALL OF THEM WERE JUST A COLLAGE OF MEMORIES, AND DREAMS.

I CARVED MY INITIALS INTO A TREE, NEXT TO WHERE I LIKED TO SIT. I REMEMBER HOPING THAT THE TREE COULDN’T FEEL ANY PAIN AND I REMEMBER BEING WRACKED WITH GUILT OVER BEING SO RECKLESS. THE TREE HAD NEVER DONE ANYTHING BUT PROVIDE SHADE AND PROTECTION FOR ME BUT I WANTED, SOMEHOW, TO SIGNAL THAT THIS WAS MY SPOT AND SUCH AN IMPORTANT PART OF MY LIFE.

AS THE YEARS WENT ON AND THE TREE GREW, MY SCRATCHED OUT LETTERING GREW LARGER AND MORE PRONOUNCED AND ALMOST SEEMED TO BE LIKE A PROUD TATTOO THAT THE TREE WORE IN HONOR OF MY PRESENCE.

YEARS LATER I WAS CALLED TO VISIT A HOSPICE PATIENT.

“WHY DO WE BURY PEOPLE AND PUT AN ENGRAVED HEADSTONE OVER THEM?” HE ASKED ME.

IT WAS SOMETHING THAT I HAD THOUGHT OF FROM TIME TO TIME OVER THE YEARS. I TOLD HIM THAT I WASN’T SURE OF THE ORIGIN OF THIS MEMORIALIZATION BUT THAT I WOULD GIVE IT SOME THOUGHT.

HE DIDN’T WANT A HEADSTONE. HE HAD MADE THAT PERFECTLY CLEAR IN ALL OF HIS LAST MINUTE PLANS AND WAS ADAMANT THAT HIS ASHES SHOULD BE SCATTERED RATHER THAN PLACED IN A HOLE IN A WALL SOMEWHERE WHERE PEOPLE COULD “VISIT”.

“I DON’T WANT ANYONE STANDING OVER ME GRIEVING” HE SAID, “ESPECIALLY SINCE I CAN’T TELL THEM TO GO TO HELL AND LEAVE ME ALONE!” HE WOULD LAUGH WHEN HE SAID THIS BECAUSE EVEN HE KNEW THAT HE WAS A LOT SOFTER THAN HE APPEARED TO BE. HE KNEW HE WOULD BE MISSED AS HE HAD A LARGE FAMILY; CHILDREN, GRANDCHILDREN AND EVEN ONE GREAT GRANDCHILD. HIS WHOLE LIFE HAD BEEN DEDICATED TO PROVIDING AND LOVING AND WALKING THAT SLICK TIGHTROPE OF PARENTING, HOPING THAT EVERYTHING WOULD TURN OUT RIGHT FOR ALL OF THEM. HE KNEW THAT LIFE WAS FRAUGHT WITH DANGERS AND OBSTACLES AND AS LIFE WENT ON HE SPENT THE USUAL AMOUNT OF TIME WORRYING, RUNNING INTERFERENCE AND TRYING TO SET THE BEST EXAMPLE POSSIBLE.

ALL OF THE CHILDREN LOVED HIM AND THEY EACH KNEW THAT ALL OF THEM WERE HIS “FAVORITE”. HE SHARED HIS LOVE EQUALLY AMONG ALL OF THEM AND, IN TURN, THEY ALL LOVED HIM UNCONDITIONALLY. THEY ALL KNEW HOW MUCH HE CARED AND HOW MUCH HE HAD SACRIFICED TO GIVE THEM THE PRIVILEGED LIVES THEY HAD COME TO ENJOY. THE PEOPLE WHO WERE HIS PATIENTS OR WHO HAD BENEFITTED FROM HIS RESEARCH ALL HELD A SPECIAL PLACE IN THEIR HEARTS FOR HIM ALSO.

IN THE COLLECTIVE LIVES OF HIS FAMILY THE ONLY TIME OF REAL DISTRESS WAS WHEN HIS WIFE, THEIR MOTHER/GRANDMOTHER HAD PASSED AWAY. NO ONE EVER THOUGHT ABOUT THE POSSIBLITY OF LOSING HER AND IT WAS SO SUDDEN THAT IT WAS AS THOUGH SOME EVIL FORCE HAD MISTAKENLY PULLED THE RUG OUT FROM UNDER THEM. HE GRIEVED AND THE CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN GRIEVED AS WELL, EACH IN THEIR OWN WAY. THE YOUNGER CHILDREN DIDN’T UNDERSTAND HER ABSENCE AND THE OLDER ONE’S ASKED ALL OF THE QUESTIONS OF LIFE THAT EVERYONE ASKS IN A TIME OF GREAT LOSS. SOME OF THEM QUESTIONED THE FAIRNESS OF LIFE AND SOME OF THEM SAW IT AS A TEST OF THEIR FAITH, QUESTIONING HOW SOME “SUPREME BEING” COULD TAKE THIS SPECIAL PERSON AWAY FROM THEM.

HE GRIEVED IN HIS OWN WAY; PRIVATELY. ONE FURTHER WAY OF “PROTECTING” THEM WAS TO NEVER LET THEM SEE HIS TEARS. THEY KNEW HE WAS SAD BUT HE SEEMED TO ACCEPT THIS FATE WITHOUT QUESTION. EVEN AT HER FUNERAL AND AT THE BURIAL HE REMAINED STOIC AND HIS STRENGTH SEEMED TO COMFORT EACH OF THEM AS THEY TRIED TO RECONCILE THIS SEEMINGLY INEXPLICABLE EVENT.

“I WANT TO BE REMEMBERED THE WAY I USED TO BE. I REALLY WISH I COULD JUST SUDDENLY DISAPPEAR SO THAT MY FAMILY WOULDN’T HAVE TO WAIT AND WATCH ME DIE. I KNOW THEY ARE SAD BUT MORE THAN ANYTHING I WANT THEM TO JUST THINK THAT I AM ALWAYS HERE WATCHING OVER THEM AND PROBABLY MISSING THEM AS MUCH AS THEY MISS ME. THAT’S THE WORST PART ABOUT DYING. I HATE THE FACT THAT I WON’T GET TO BE PART OF THEIR LIVES ANY MORE AND, WORST OF ALL, I KNOW THEY’LL MISS ME. I JUST WANT THEM TO REALIZE THAT I’LL ALWAYS BE AROUND AS LONG AS THEY REMEMBER ME.”

“PERHAPS THAT’S WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE A HEADSTONE SO THAT THEY WOULD HAVE A PLACE TO “VISIT” AND REMEMBER YOU” I SAID TO HIM.

“THAT’S EXACTLY WHY I DON’T WANT THAT”, HE RESPONDED. MY WIFE HAS A HEADSTONE AND ON SPECIAL ANNIVERSARYS OR HOLIDAYS WE GO TO “VISIT HER” AND LEAVE FLOWERS. IT’S ALWAYS SO SAD FOR EVERYONE. I DON’T WANT ANYONE TO MAKE A SPECIAL TRIP TO A SAD PLACE LIKE A GRAVEYARD. I WANT THEM TO CATCH A GLIMPSE OF ME EVERY DAY AND REMEMBER ME THE WAY I USED TO BE. I ONLY WANT A FEW SECONDS OF THEIR TIME BUT THAT WILL BE MY LEGACY – THAT THEY KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVED THEM WHEN I WAS WITH THEM.”

A WEEK OR SO LATER HE SAID TO ME, “DID YOU THINK ABOUT MY QUESTION – WHY DO WE HAVE CEMETARIES WITH HEADSTONES?” “YES” I ANSWERED, “I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT AND EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT IT I REMEMBER CARVING MY NAME IN THE BARK OF A TREE NEXT TO A BROOK. I WANTED THE WORLD TO KNOW THAT I HAD BEEN THERE. SOMEHOW, IN MY MISGUIDED VANITY, I WANTED TO MEMORIALIZE MYSELF AND THE SPECIAL MOMENTS THAT I SPENT THERE.”

“IS THE TREE STILL THERE?” HE ASKED.

“YES, I BELIEVE IT IS” I SAID. “IT’S BEEN A LOT OF YEARS SINCE I WENT TO THAT SPOT BUT I’M SURE EVERYTHING IS PROBABLY MUCH THE SAME.”

HE LOOKED UP AT ME AND SAID, “DO YOU THINK THAT SOME DAY PEOPLE WILL MAKE PILGRIMAGES THERE, IN YOUR HONOR?” “DO YOU THINK THEY WILL KNEEL AND PLACE FLOWERS AND CRY?”

“NO, PROBABLY NOT”, I RESPONDED.

HE TURNED TO FACE ME AND SAID, “THEN GIVE THEM SOMETHING THAT THEY CAN CARRY WITH THEM FOR ALL TIME; GIVE THEM A MEMORY OF THE SPECIAL PERSON THAT YOU WERE AND THEY WILL HONOR THAT MEMORY EVERY TIME THEY THINK OF YOU.”

“WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY PASS AND THERE IS NO ONE LEFT TO REMEMBER ME?” I ASKED.

HE SMILED AND SAID “DO SOMETHING SPECIAL; SOMETHING KIND EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE. MAKE YOURSELF MEMORABLE INSIDE YOUR OWN LITTLE UNIVERSE AND PEOPLE WILL TELL STORIES ABOUT YOU TO OTHER PEOPLE. YOUR LEGACY CAN AND SHOULD LAST LONGER THAN YOUR LIFE DID. IT’S UP TO YOU TO CULTIVATE IT EVERY MOMENT BY TOUCHING AT LEAST ONE LIFE EVERY DAY. THINK OF IT AS CARVING YOUR INITIALS ON A TREE EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE!”

“NOW DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I DON’T WANT A TANGIBLE MEMORIAL, A HEADSTONE, LIKE AN OBELISK BECKONING THE FAITHFUL TO A PILGRIMAGE?” HE SIGHED.

EACH DAY OF MY LIFE, FROM THAT MOMENT ON, I KNEW THAT HE HAD TOUCHED ME IN A VERY SPECIAL WAY. I KNEW THAT I WANTED TO, FIGURATIVELY, CARVE MY INITIALS INTO SOMEONE’S LIFE EVERY DAY. I KNEW THAT I WANTED TO BUILD MY OWN LEGACY BY DOING SOMETHING SPECIAL EVERY DAY. I WANTED TO MAKE SURE THAT, AS I EXITED THIS LIFE, I WOULDN’T REGRET THAT NO ONE REMEMBERED ME.
I, LIKE HIM, WANTED TO BE MORE THAN JUST A TOMBSTONE.

HE HAD SERVED WELL IN HIS LIFE. HE HAD MADE HIS FAMILY PROUD AND, AS A PHYSICIAN, HE HAD TOUCHED AND SAVED MANY LIVES. THERE WAS NO GRAVE FOR HIM AND NO HEADSTONE. HIS FAMILY HONORED HIS WISHES. HIS ASHES WERE SCATTERED THE WAY HE WANTED THEM. BUT A BRONZE PLAQUE WITH HIS NAME WAS PLACED ON THE CORNERSTONE OF THE HOSPITAL THAT WAS BUILT IN HIS MEMORY.
THANK YOU DR. S. YOU GOT THE MEMORIAL THAT YOU DIDN’T WANT, BUT SO DESERVED.

YOU TOUCHED SO MANY LIVES, INCLUDING MINE. I HOPE THAT WE WILL MEET AGAIN SOMEWHERE, SOMEDAY AND YOU WILL REMEMBER ME.

I THINK OF YOU EVERY DAY AND I STRIVE TO FOLLOW YOUR EXAMPLE AND MAKE SURE THAT I HAVE LEFT MY “INITIALS” ON A FOREST OF TREES WHEN IT COMES TIME FOR ME TO DEPART.
GP

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