The Roots of Our Tree

When I was little, my grandpa moved us into a house in this small town, just outside of Western Toronto. I remember driving into the town for the first time- It was so different from what I knew, but then again, I was only in kindergarten and I had never been anywhere but the city before. I remember the drive there. Looking out the window and seeing that most of the houses were bright blues and reds, with lots of happy old couples on their porches in their rocking chairs, listening to static on the radio. I remember seeing parts of the town that made it special, like the old boat that has always been rusting behind Johnny’s dinner, and Ms. Lancaster’s ice cream shop that had christmas lights up and on, all year round. “This is gonna be such an adventure, Bella”, was all grandpa said. Rather than that, he just maintained his regular serious expression. Thoughtful and calm, with a sweet, tired smile.

*

When we had finally driven up to the house, I was amazed. After mom and dad had passed away, grandpa had never told me, but I knew he was struggling trying to make ends meet, find us a place to live that was big enough for two, in a nice neighbourhood. Well, I don’t know how he did it, but grandpa succeeded. I remember him getting out and walking around his old truck to open my door and unbuckle my seat belt. He took my small, pudgy hand into his old, calloused fingers and helped me jump out. As I soaked up everything I saw, I was overwhelmed by this little house that was a dream come true. There was a white picket fence that surrounded the tiny front yard we had, full of weeds. “I can get you some seeds to plant some flowers,” grandpa had said as we walked up the steps to the house. The house was an eggshell white, with tiny framed windows and a blue door. It was small, but nevertheless, perfect in every way. Just before opening the door, grandpa pulled back his hand, the tiniest bit of excitement in his eyes. “I forgot to show you the best part”, he said. He pulled me around the yard, through the little gate to the back of the house, into a tiny backyard, barely the size of the house.

Then I saw it.

I saw a beautiful birch tree that reached up, almost all the way to the roof of the house. I can only imagine how big my eyes were as I stared with amazement. Without a word, I dropped grandpa’s hand and ran to the tree. Eager to figure out how to climb it, I jumped up onto the first branch, and tried to swing my leg over. Turns out, five year olds have incredible climbing skills, because I mounted that tree like a pro in no more that 30 seconds flat. 

I felt like I was on top of the world.

I looked down at grandpa, and I remember better than anything else the smile that he had shining from ear to ear, and he said in the heartwarming way that he does, “that’s my girl.”

*

I remember the years that followed the amazing day that we bought our house, too. As much as I wanted to believe that the little house grandpa bought had fixed all of my problems, it didn’t. I had a hard time in school- I was always lost in my imagination, with my nose in a book, perched on the tree every chance that I had. I got Ds and Cs, and as I got older and the work got harder, I felt discouraged more and more each day. Grandpa never made much money as an old construction worker, and so we only had enough money for food and clothes, if I really needed them. 

I never made any friends, either. It’s not like I didn’t try, or anything. The other kids just didn’t seem interested in me, was all. They all had nice clothes, they all took music lessons and played on sports teams.

They all had a mom and dad.

I remember being lonely most of the time, staring out the window at lunch while the other kids chatted and giggled. 

But grandpa would come home, cook his famous chilli, and we would sit outside with our bowls, right under the tree. It was so peaceful- I loved watching the squirrels run around, I knew they were my friends. Even though it was nothing fancy, those nights were the most special.

*

I remember one time in the fourth grade, when I invited a boy in my class, Max, over to my house for a playdate after school. I liked Max- he wasn’t rowdy or bossy like the other kids, and he dressed like me. He always kept to himself, but I could tell it was because he was smarter than everyone else. At the end of the day, I walked up to him. “Hey Max, do you want to come over after school?” “Okay.” And that was that.

On the walk home from school, I talked to him about my grandpa, and how he worked as a construction worker. I told him about the squirrels who were my friends in the backyard, the books that I liked reading from the library, and most importantly, about the tree. “It’s huge!” I exclaimed, my eyes wide to emphasize the “huge”. He nodded and asked, “Is it as big as the other trees?” Immediately, I shook my head. “No, this one’s special. You can see the whole town from it, and the branches are like stepping stones, perfect for climbing.” When we finally got to the house, grandpa was sitting outside gardening. “Hi Bella,” he looked up from his work and smiled. “Who’s this little fella you brought with you?” “This is Max,” I said as I took Max’s hand to lead him to the backyard. “We’re going to the back to play, grandpa.” Max and I ran to the back, and Max took one look at the tree, and his mouth fell open. “It is perfect,” he said gapping at the long, beautiful branches. “I can’t believe you have the best tree in our town,” he said as he started climbing. “I know, right? Grandpa says that it’s done growing, but it looks bigger everyday”,  “ look at me!” Max yells hanging from his legs on one of the long branches. Laughing, I climb up next to him. “Max,” I asked him. “Why do you have such messy clothes like me all the time, when other kids have clean new ones every year?” A glimmer of hope shone in my heart that maybe he was the same as me. Maybe his parents had died in a car accident, too. “My dad doesn't have a great job, and sometimes he doesn’t go to work. He’s a drinker. That’s what mom said before she left.” He stared down at his feet, silence filling the air. “Well, maybe you can come here sometimes,” I said sensing that Max was sad. “This can be our tree, and we’ll play on it whenever we want.” He looked up at me, a smile on his face. “Okay”, was all he said. And from that point on, it was our tree.

*

Although I then had a best friend who went with me everywhere and read books with me, not everything had gotten better.

Some things started getting worse, actually. 

Grandpa had started acting strangely- at first, he would just stutter at times trying to think of the word he wanted to say, and other times he would forget that the stove was on, or that the shower was running upstairs. It started with little things, and slowly but surely, they grew bigger and bigger. Soon, grandpa had started forgetting how to do simple things, like make eggs and how to start the car. I felt terrible about leaving him to go to school everyday- but he had stopped working, and we were living off of his pension and government funding, so I figured he’d be safe enough if he stayed at home. But deep down, I knew.

I was losing him.

I was losing him, and there wasn’t a thing that I could do about it.

*

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a surprisingly warm and sunny day for an October morning, and I was sitting in my grade 12 english class, waiting for my teacher, Mrs. Walters, to hand out a test that I was not prepared to take at all. All that time I spent reading, and I couldn’t even pass one lousy essay test on Shakespeare. Finally, I had just received my test, and I was going over the questions when all of a sudden, the phone rang. As Mrs. Walters got up, exasperated from having to stop reading her romance novel to get the phone, I took that beautiful opportunity to try and sneak a look at Max’s test. He was holding it at a slight angle so that I could just barely read the words off his page. “Bella,” Mrs. Walter said. I turned my head abruptly, angry at myself for being caught cheating. But when I saw Mrs. Walter’s face, I saw concern instead of anger. “Bella, you have to go to the hospital right away. I’m afraid your grandfather had an accident.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

“Hold on, I’ll drive you. ” Max said as he rushed out of his seat.

I was in a state of shock, but then panic finally started setting in. I bolted out of my chair and grabbed Max’s open hand. We ran through the halls, down the stairs to his car. The drive to the hospital was long and silent. I kept begging for Max to speed up, but I knew we were already going above the speed limit. My eyes filled with tears as I let it sink in.

The shock, the worry, the fear.

All I could do was hope that grandpa would be okay when we got there.

*

As we parked the car, I jumped out without a second to spare. Max was on my heels, and I ran all the way to reception at the front desk. “My name is Bella Barry, I’m here to see my grandfather, John Barry. ” It felt like a century had passed as I waited impatiently, while the receptionist slowly finished whatever she was doing on her computer to look up at me. “He’s in intensive care right now dear, just take a seat and I’ll let you know when you can see him.” Before I took my seat in a chair next to the window in the corner, I remembered what I should have asked right when I arrived. “Can you tell me what happened to him?” “Your grandfather was in a fire,” was all she said. I wanted to ask for more, for anything, but she just turned away from me and resumed her typing. I finally went to the chair next to the window and sat next to Max, who looked almost as anxious as I did.

But not nearly as anxious as I felt.

*

The waiting room was filled with sterile smells, neon lights, pregnant women, and sick children. Everyone sitting anxiously, trying to make the best of their desperate situations. 

All I could think about was the fire. 

I wondered if grandpa was conscious, if he was covered in burns, if he was breathing. My mind wandered to the worst scenarios possible. 

All I could feel was my worry, and most of all, shame. Shame for overlooking his dementia, convincing myself that it wasn’t that bad, that he would be safe at home. 

Shame for letting him hurt himself, and for letting the house that I loved so much go to flames.

I waited patiently as I saw doctors come to reception, and patients being called up for their visits and checkups, hoping with all my heart that my name would be called next. 

But it wasn’t.

So I waited.

*

“Bella, your grandfather is ready to see you.” I barely registered the words before I shot up to my feet. “Bella, do you need me to come in with you?” Max asked, looking at me with concern. “No, I’ll be fine,” was all I managed to say before following the doctor who was leading me, with the intensity of a maniac. After turning around, what felt like, every corner in the hospital, we finally reached room 2108.

Grandpa’s room.

Suddenly, I felt scared to go in, worried about what I would see.

I finally got up the courage to enter the room, and once I opened the door, I was horrified beyond words. I saw grandpa hooked up to an IV with about a million tubes, breathing shallowly, burns covering about every inch of his exposed body, and he looked as though he was asleep.

The image of him like this broke my heart. Before leaving, the doctor  whispered to me, “Bella, you have to understand that your grandfather is in fatally severe conditions. It’s unlikely that he will recover from this.” As I let the words sink in, I slowly walked in and took a seat on the edge of grandpa’s bed. I thought I would just hear his breathing, but slowly, he opened his eyes. “Bella,” he said as he looked at me with his weak, heartwarming smile. Suddenly, the tears came rushing down my face. “Grandpa, I’m so sorry,” was all I could say over and over again. He just held my hands and squeezed them gently, letting me know that everything was okay. “Grandpa, I should have never let you stay home alone.” All he could do was offer me a small smile, eyes closed.

Suddenly, I heard a beeping sound.

I looked at the machine monitoring his heart, and noticed that there was just a line.

Doctors rushed into the room, and I was forced out once again, helpless and hopeless, without anything I could do.

Without grandpa.

*

Watching all the doctors in grandpa’s room is a blur in my memory. It was like an awful movie that I was forced to watch, a scene that I just couldn’t stomach. The doctor who had led me to the room earlier came out. His mouth was a tight line, and his eyes showed remorse. That’s when I knew it. 

I had lost grandpa.

*

As Max and I drove home, I felt like my whole world had fallen apart. He drove in silence letting me have my time to cry and stare out the window.

There were families on the sidewalk, birds in the sky, joggers passing us. The fact that the world was continuing, just like everyday, was what hurt the most.

*

When we arrived at my house, I couldn’t believe what I saw.

One side of the house collapsed from the fire burning so much of it, there were enormous holes in all of the walls, broken windows, and soot covering almost every inch of the egg shell white paint. Smoke floated around the house like a bubble, and as I looked through one of the broken windows, I saw how terrible it looked inside the kitchen. I was lost in my own despair when Max called my name.

Hesitantly, I walked around the piles of rubble to where he was standing in the backyard.

And in all the chaos, the tree was standing with such strength and beauty, as if telling the world that it was stronger than anything thrown at it.

And it gave me strength, too.