Her Last Request

Her Last Request

It was odd how someone’s perspective could be changed entirely by a single event.

Before, the grand oak ensconced in the middle of the park would have seemed awesome and beautiful. Its preeminent height and mass setting it apart and cascading cool shadows across the park lawn. The warm coat of orange and reds painting its leaves paired with the cool autumn sunlight would have seemed pristine and wonderful.

       But now, it seemed so different.

             Its large limbs now stood bare, jutting up at the overcast sky in acute and twisted scrags of wood. It stood now as a towering reminder of the past, never to be relived, and its now crimson leaves were settled at the base as if to manifest the tree’s true form. The once lively air was gray and cold, staining the atmosphere with a feeling of sordid gloom.

This is what the man who stood in front of it contemplated, eyeing the tree with a bittersweet hatred as the early-winter wind whipped bitterly around him. He looked upon it with a malcontent countenance, as if the tree were responsible for every bad thing in his life.

             He was older, with subtly graying hair and wrinkles he didn’t quite recall having before. He had a tall, lanky disposition, like some lone beanpole in the middle of a garden. A worn cap rested on his head and an old coat and scarf hugged his body.

Sitting on a bench in front of the tree was an equally old, if not older, woman. She bore no coat, but was not the least bit unnerved by the cold, so it seemed. She sat with a small parcel of birdseed, tossing out little handfuls, though no birds were around. She sat on the opposite side of the tree, back to the man, and only she was conscious of the others presence. 

“Why do you stare with such enmity towards this tree?” the woman spoke with subtle eloquence, not bothering to face the man.

The man snapped away from his thoughts, looking up and finding the woman. He did not recall seeing her come to the tree, but did not question her appearance further. He let his head fall just a little, speaking with great somberness.

“You would think me irrational, if I were to tell you.” he said in a futilely taciturn attempt to dismiss conversation.

“Nonsense” the woman said plainly “your reason to be here is no better than mine.”

  The man sighed, deciding to capitulate to the woman’s demand, not much caring to resist.

“Once, this tree was of great happiness and wonder, for it is the place where I met someone of great importance to me. A beautiful, benevolent creature who loved the world and all that life had to offer” The man’s voice grew from blithe to a low, melancholy tone “She was very dear to me.”

The man lifted his hand to the grand trunk of the tree, musing his fingers over a worn and faded inscription. A small, practically intangible heart with long unreadable initials inscribed within it.

“You speak of this woman with the reverence one accompanies with those who have passed” the woman paused “has something happened to this woman?”

The man nodded, whispering a barely audible “yes” as he let his hand fall away.

“Oh” the woman went quiet for a moment, absentmindedly throwing another handful of birdseed “I am very sorry. Was the woman your mother, or perhaps your sister?”

“My wife” he whispered slowly, eyes lifting to the tree with a slow sadness.

The woman seemed dismayed, a sad sigh echoing into the air.

“The tree reminds you of all you have lost, and cannot regain?” she said.

“A constant, indefatigable reminder of the memory that will remain just that, a memory” the man with grief so heavy that his head sank with it, lowering his gaze to the base of the tree.

For a moment they sat in silence, the wind continuing to rage angrily around them, though it seemed to slow as if in acknowledgement of their demeanor.

“Well, that is quite irrational after all.”

The man's head rose upwards, eyes now staring at the figure of the woman on the bench.

“It is not the tree’s fault that such sad, terrible things have happened. It is obstinate, and does not stop because of or cause such events. It simply exists. It is you who have incorporated it into your memories and experiences, not the tree itself.”

The man opened his mouth to speak, but the woman continued.

“It deserves no retribution for the things it cannot help. Alas, you cannot control nor halt these things as well, for you would have if you could. There is, however, one thing you can control.”

The man, now confused and curious of what the woman had to say, responded curtly; “And what would that be?”

“You can choose either to view this tree as some great, terrible reminder of everything you have lost and contempt it for all eternity” the woman paused. “Or you can choose to see it as a subtle acknowledgement to all that you have been lucky enough to experience and enjoy.” The woman tossed another little handful of birdseed, pausing to watch it scatter across the concrete.  “I believe the prior is an indignation to this tree and the memory itself, and seeing as you do it already, then yes, your reason for being here is very irrational.”

“Almost as irrational as tossing seed with no birds around?” the man mused, a faint smile gracing his lips.

The woman laughed, a loud and awesome sound that seemed to ring through the air

The man sighed a little, rounding the tree to join the woman on the bench. He dusted off a little birdseed, sitting on the opposite end of the seat.

“I suppose my wife would not have wanted me to remember this place with such hatred. But it is hard to accept the fact that the person who made a place so special can never be seen again.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” the woman said, “but I like to believe that a little part of that person continues to live in the places they made wonderful. I think your wife would’ve wanted you to visit this place and recall those wonderful happenings and allow her memory to live on in this place.”

The man smiled a little, faint and just barely noticeable, as he turned to look at the woman next to him. She was turned away from him, looking out to the horizon, and it was only then did he notice she was not wearing a coat.”

“My! Aren’t you cold?” The man said, procuring his coat and offering it to her.

The woman did not face him still, but replied; “I’m fine, thank you, the cold does not really bother me much anymore. Besided, I really must be going.”

The woman stood, gathering her bag of birdseed and standing to leave. The man hesitated before finally choosing to speak.

“Wait, before we part, may I tell you the real reason I came here today, for I am sure you have gathered that I did not have the courage to face this burden on my own.”

“Yes, I gathered that. You seemed to hate this tree so much I hardly thought you came unless you felt absolutely obliged to.”

“Yes,” the man laughed.“you're right, I would not have come. But, shortly before she passed, my wife asked that I visit this tree. She did not elaborate as to why, but…it seemed of great importance to her.”

The woman did not speak for a moment, stopping to finally face the man. She wore a content smile, doing no justice to the warm happiness she felt inside.

“It was, indeed’ she spoke finally “and may I say, I am very happy that you came.”