Under The Tree

It is a large chestnut tree, sits beside a narrow lane, perhaps 140 years or so old.  On one side is a flower garden for acres, the other is a park with a matching tree just 60 feet away.  I had found that spot several years ago while metal detecting, apparently lots of people have picnicked and lost stuff around its roots for a century!

So, I was driving by there one rainy afternoon and was surprised to see a man sitting in a full set of oilskins.  It was a driving rain and he just sat there, motionless.  I slowed as he might be dead or injured.  He wasn't, he was crying.

Day after day, rain or sun, morning, noon or eve, he was there just sitting.  I thought him homeless but the almost new Saab at the park was apparently his.  He had no physical need, but his grief was very real and very great.  And never a word would he say.  In fact his eyes never even focused on me when I would speak to him.

The mystery was solved one day, an anniversary it seems, the day his daughter's Nissan slammed into that tree at high speed.  Gathered with him were the parents of her friends, also lost in a crash that never should have been.

Losing a loved one hurts.  Things you know you never said, things you know you never should have said, time never spent, future days lost - never to be.

I was despondent Monday morning, as my post obviously showed.  And God was merciful and as I shut down my computer to go to lunch, a text popped up from my eldest daughter:
"You have been a wonderful amazing dad for the last 16 years. thank you so much for everything, i can't imagine my life without you.  i am so proud to call you my papa.  i might not share your DNA but it takes more than that to be a father.  you are truly amazing and i love you.  happy adoption day.  love you."

Yes, happy adoption day my daughter.  It is hard to believe that it has been 16 years, much less that for half of those you have been married and raising a family ...

PS: I drove by that old tree and it stood there all alone ...  The father no loner there, but I well imagine his daughter is not forgotten ...