The Winds in the Willows

The Winds in the Willows

The weeping willow continued its silent vigil, bearing witness to love, loss, and reunion. Its roots, entwined with stories, held the weight of the world.

My grandfather's passing was a devastation to our whole family. He was the patriarch and the glue that held our dysfunctional family together all these years. It was the day of his funeral. All the family had gathered together that Sunday afternoon. Everyone in their black suites, dresses, and hats We stood outside the front entrance of the church in line as we waited to go in to see him for the last time. The inside of the church was filled with all the people who knew and loved him. Grandfather never met a stranger. He embraced everyone he met. I remember one summer there was a man who came to our house looking for an old friend of his who lived in our neighborhood. He and grandfather talked until it got dark. I don't know if he ever found his friend, but he came to see my grandfather every year after that day. The funeral director came outside, and the line began to move. As we got closer to the front of the church where the casket stood, my grandmother broke down and had to be carried to her seat by my uncles Cedric and Wallace. Grandfather casket was ivory and silver. He was dressed in a dark gray suite, white shirt and black tie. Laying inside his casket, he looked as if was sleeping. It was my turn at the casket, I bent over and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you granddaddy,” I whispered.

A lone tear fell from my eyes and rolled down his cheek. He felt so cold and stiff. There are so many thoughts that run through your mind when you are seeing a loved one for the last time. The way they smell when you hugged them and the hardy laugh that he had when something was funny. I lost the bravest man I ever knew, and my heart was broken. After the service was over, the family gathered together upon the hill to the grave site. In the center of the graveyard stood an old weeping willow tree. It's long, slender branches and delicate leaves began to gently sway in the light breeze. My grandfather's grave is right next to the willow tree. It was almost as if the tree itself was mourning along with us. I remember a story that my grandmother told me about the weeping willow tree. In ancient times, the weeping willow became a symbol of both grief and resilience. Its branches hung low, as if in perpetual mourning, yet its roots dug deep into the earth, drawing strength from sorrow. As the seasons changed, so did the lives of those who sought solace beneath its branches. And in the quiet moments, when the wind whispered through its leaves, the weeping willow seemed to say, "Weep, but also endure." After the rest of the family were getting into family cars and leaving the church, I decided to stay a moment. I didn't feel like riding back with the family. My friend Kendra stayed behind with me to drive me home. I knew things wouldn't be the same after grandfather's passing. The family would go back to being mean and not speaking to one another until after we have to meet again for another funeral. Then there would be fake hugs, kisses and smiles. I hadn't eaten anything since early that morning. The toast and coffee had well digested by now. Kendra held my hand as we walked back to her car. My stomach stated growling and Kendra looked at me and laughed.

“You want to stop at McDonald's?” asked Kendra. “You belly is talking to you.”

“No, I'm okay,” I said.

Kendra unlocked her car door so that we could get inside. As I stood at the car, I glance back toward the cemetery where all the flowers lay on top of my grandfather's grave. They buried him right in the front of the cemetery and you could see his grave from the road. There was a sudden gust of air and the weeping willow tree in the cemetery began to sway wildly. I took it as a sign that grandfather was letting me know everything is alright and he was in a better place now. I told Kendra that I wanted to take the long way home. I loved the countryside. In the city you don't have much peace and quiet as you do living in the country. It was the beginning of spring and everything was in full bloom. The sweet smell of honeysuckle blossoms filled the air for miles. The gentle breeze from the windows being rolled down felt calming as it brushed against my skin. Mr. Parham was sitting in his rocking chair on his porch in his gray boxer shorts and white t shirt. His dog Duke was running around the yard chasing a squirrel up a tree. He had been doing this since I was a young girl. I remember wondering was this all he had to wear since I never saw him in anything else. I wanted so desperately to get out of these clothes and get into the comforts of my big night shirt when I got home. Riding through the countryside always made me feel better. We finally crossed over the Black Warrior River Bridge. The main entrance that divided the countryside from the city. Kendra pulled into my driveway. I could see my tan tabby cat Issa looking out my living room window.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked.

“No, I have to stop by the store,” said Kendra.

“Okay, thanks for the ride,” I said.

“Anytime,” said Kendra.

I felt so drained like I had done a day's work. My cat Issa met me at the front door snuggling against my legs and purring softly. I continued into my bedroom and kicked off my shoes. I reached into my dresser drawer and took out my night shirt with Minnie Mouse on the front. I turned on television and fell across the foot of my bed. The last thing I remember is closing my tired, red, swollen eyes and falling fast asleep.