The Tree

The Tree

My eyes looked unblinking at the heart rate monitor that tells my daddys heart beat. So weak, as weak as the strains of up and down of his chest. My hands hugging his thin pale back hand helplessly while he was sleeping and it increasingly blurred his reflection in my eyes. A strong hand touched my shoulder gently made my mouth issued a gasp of tightness in my chest. That's my husband who came, along with our daughter who was sleeping soundly in his arms. A few weeks apart at a time like this made me miss them so much. I stood up and leaned my head on his chest and he hugged me warmly with one hand. My eyes blurred ,leaving two water marks on his traveling coat. I was trying so hard not to howl at that time.

That night, my other brothers would take my place to keep daddy My heart is so heavy, I did not want to go while not knowing what could happen.
"Everything will be okay", said my younger brother and I hopes he's right.
May daddy's heart would survive once again tonight said a little voice inside me when i touched my brother's shoulder to tell him good night before he replied it with calm eyes. I always envied him who always hides his feelings very well. Even when my mother left and we were all overwhelmed with grief, my brother appeared the most painful calm face I've ever seen. People say that this kinda expression which actually store the deepest pain. His feelings could not be far different from ours, but I was so annoyed when I saw him seemed strong enough. Turning my face once more before leaving the room with my little one who wason my arm. It was peace of mind knowing there was beloved one whom you could embrace when your heart was in troubled.

We reached at my family's home and instead I let the father of a daughter who served me a cup of coffee though he just arrived from Turkey. It took a little time for him to find the position of the coffee and sugar because I did not intend at all to speak. Then he sat pensively after putting a cup of coffee in front of me, looking at his wife who was matted. Not utter a word since we met at the hospital until finally we sat at front of the dining table on a deserted kitchen till many hours later. That was the second attack against the heart of my dad after the attack occurred early last year about eight months ago. Doctors said his condition was very critical that I did not want to hear or remember the words. My eyes were dreamy, looking at the kitchen which daddy and I began to renovate a year before I got married. Just as exactly as the dream kitchen that I always wanted. Shades of wood from the walls to furniture. Warm impression would fill anyone who ever got into this kitchen. When my husband and I married, we bear all the cost of the wedding itself. I always wanted a wedding that everyone's relief. For that we both took long enough time to prepare this marriage since too much time-consuming job we had to do. Families on both sides did not cost a penny. Our wedding invitation made simply with relatives and close friends only.  I always dreamed of having a beautiful kitchen at home, then he made this kitchen renovation as a wedding gift in exchange for fees which he did not spend it for me though in the end I could only see this kitchen occasionally when I got back. Renovations completed just two weeks before the D day. On a typical day there were only a small round dining table with four chairs there. Until the time we gathered on Ied day, the feast iftar, family reunions, or just eat together then issued a long table with more than twelve seats to accommodate the number of members of our family which growing up from time to time. Ismael's warm hands grip on the back of my hand made me looked up. My quiet and calm husband then moved his chair closer to me prior to hugging again. And not avoided to wake our daughter up, I cried softly spilling grief. I was so grateful that he strengthen me by saying nothing.

That night I slept while embracing tight Jeena. My brother came with the news on that calm morning as I was making breakfast for my small family. He said that there was little progress with the development of daddy's condition which meant  the crucial surgery to save his life will be further expedited.
"You do not need to get there before this afternoon," he added. "Too many of us waiting, it's just overcrowd the room. After all, you need to rest and be with both of them who have come all the way from Turkey".

Then three of us were sitting in front of a shady house with a variety of fruit trees planted by my dad. A tree caught our attention on the land side of the yard that was unfenced. It was a large and shady tree, located near the bend of the road. There was a swing hanging in its branch and a simple wooden bench where we often spent our quality time with dad below the tree. On hot days, we eating fruits together, drinking lemonade, joking, chatting and venting bout anything, playing,  and writing our names on the trunk. Sea almond tree grew old memories with us and I hoped to grow with my daughter as well. Even the kids around our neighborhood also often playing underneath. It must also meant something for them. The tree was so strong, staood tall and elegant with robust branches in all directions as the mighty hands that would keep us at any time. Broad leaves often made hats by kids, colored green in the rainy season and orange-red in summer. For years the tree was a shadow of my imagination of autumn colors in the four seasons countries that I've never seen before. It's so beautiful. Even when autumn arrived in Anatolia, my mind filled with the shadow of this tree. Maybe because it reminded me of a strong and tough figure of my father, or I might consider it as a manifestation of my father. In my view, the nature of the tree were protecting and calm as what father always did to his family. It sounded too romantic, but it did. My daughter showed beautiful dimple when she listened with enthusiasm to the story. She just looked like my mother with a dimple on the left chick, small teeth, and wavy hair. It's just that her white skin and big eyes that was uncommon for an indo girl who did not  look like his father. Often I looked at my little girl intently as she laughed just to find out "whose sweet smile she has stolen?". She and my husband smiled longingly as I told her about a tree behind our house that I used to talk to when i was a child and now had gone.

While in college I was living away from home and only came home once every two weeks. One day I hugged the tree and said when I'd see it again for two weeks seemed so long for me to leave home. But two weeks later when I got home, I did not see it stood over behind the house yard. I asked my mother about what happened. Mommy said that a week ago when a hard rain came, the tree was strucked by lightning and felt. I lost one of best friend which had been with me for ten years. I must say that sometimes I talked on it with a heart that I'm sure it could hear it. Now I say to my daughter, that her mom loved everything related to any fond memories of her childhood. I showed her pictures of our family tree. As I and my brothers were children, teenagers, to adults. There were also photos of my nephew and several cousins. My father planted many trees, including the Sea Almond tree to shade the street to avoid erosion because our house was located on a small hill of a sloping land. Until the rains came, it often brought the ground together with the water flows. My father loved plants, especially trees and thankfully he transmited it to his children.

One day, there was a group of people came and cut down some large acacia tree that awee located on land owned by another person in the back side of our house with a big noisy chainsaw. My father watched the action nonstop by shaking his head. He kept wondering incredulously.
"Why do people love to cut trees in areas where rarely a tree? Takes years for trees to grow large and leafy. Unfortunately there are people who do not like greenery and trees. Too bad they do it to nature. Too bad", commented my father at the time.

I thought maybe the landowner who told them to do it, but dad said that according to our neighbors these people were cutting down trees on vacant land as they did near the farm. Dad, me and my brother's sad to see the tree went away and ended up on a truck. Me and dad bleary away as the truck drove past at the front road of our home. Since that day the sky, clouds, soil and air in our back yard felt to be different for it. One time ,I went to visit the remains of the tree and counted the tree's annual cycles. It turned out that the tree had been in our neighborhood for nine years. It felt so amazing when considering that in every circle years contained so many stories about the life history of the people who lived close to it. I used to imagine if we were sitting under the tree, but since the tall grasses to make us fail to get there. Then I wished i had done it  though for once. If there were people who talked to food such as Rachael Ray, maybe daddy and I were examples of people who spoke on our trees.

My husband then took the camera and we made some photos under the Sea Almond tree. But unfortunately my daughter had not had time to pose with dad and my family. I took a picture just as she was swinging on the family historical swing. As my father had done to me also my brothers. Didn't know when it happened, but as I grew the feeling, belief in the healing of my father covered my heart with a warm feeling and gave me hope.

Two weeks went by after daddy's bypass surgery. He still stayed at the hospital. The days passed and filled with a sense of optimism in the middle of a small chance to dad's survival, my husband and daughter increasingly enjoy playing under our favorite tree. She could not wait to take pictures with my father, but I told her that she must wait until her grandfather cured. Until the day finally came when daddy was eagerly to go home. We brought him home with a heart that refused scary thoughts in our heads. He sat in his wheelchair to make pictures with my daughter and two days before we all end up back to the hospital and we would never see him again. Everything became more pathetic, one week later when we were gathered at home after seven days commemorate the departure of my father, the sounds of a noisy machine heard once again, we ran out into the yard. And what happened was a group of people were brutally cut our memory tree's branches cruelly. Unconsciously my mouth gaped and bleary eyes. My six years old daughter, Jeena Khadijah ran and hit me, sobbing. My brother brought the remains of the swing then put it on my trembling hand.
"No dear, it's just a tree". said I with a heart sorely, my voice almost choked.
"But, it's mommy's tree, grandpa's tree, the tree of we all!" she whined loudly.
My daughter hugged tightly, stroking Jeena's hair to calm her down. I tried so hard not to cry though it felt completely numb. Ismael draping his arm around my back. Daddy left, the tree also, and the wind that blew in my hair just felt different. Soon many children gathered to see the fall of the of their memory tree. Apparently they were also the same as we were, disappointed.
Somehow my brother Abdi talked to those people and eventually won the right to the trunks. He bought the main trunk where we were writing our names and polished it then put the rod in the house as a memento that remains us of a historic tree of our family. To commemorate and honor my father, I and Jeena planted some trees at the edge of our yard which my daughter named them as grandpa and Jeena's trees, a place on my family yard that other will no longer be able to arbitrarily cut them down and heed the memories of ours. People often overlook the little things that actually have a major impact in their lives of others.
We are looking at the pictures we made before with dad one by one, it made me realized. I never really lost my dad. In the photos I could see his fade smile that never gone till his last days. So awesome. When i looked at my my daughter smiled at me closely, I found the answer of the smile and beautiful eyes that Jeena has stolen for herself. My father lived inside my daughter, the best and most beautiful of his legacy that he could passed on me in its most real ones. A faint smile, big glazed eyes, and the dimples, also her compassionate heart made me as I saw my parents again in a different figure of my daughter. It affected my life until many years later in which my son and my daughter had every things that they have inherited from my family and my husband's family and gave me pride of the good things they could share with the world. There's no more magnitude gifts of one's life than to have what belongs to the people they love. There is no reason to say that my life was imperfect. Loved and beloved by dad has made me felt as a complete figure because he always taught me to love what became my strength that always made me felt complete. He taught me to trust myself and the power of my mind. My dad always been a good listener to me and be the first man who accepted me the way I am.

Daddy's last message to me was when he said that "Surely, kindness never leave, even if the world turned away from you or end, God remains in place and makes good things alive. Because He'll never leave, then stop worry about anything. As long as you don't lose Him in your heart, I will stay here", said he, pointing his finger to my chest. I hugged that skinny handsand made it wet with tears. He was right, eventually, dad' messages made me felt more alive time to time. When the trees flushed asleep and green blossom in Anatolia, I remembered his figure with the power of a smile. Memorizing his last visit on autumn two years ago. We enjoyed the colorful foliage under a velvet sky. He was no longer here, but to love what became his passion has made me know daddy so much better than before he left.

Friday, October 23, 2009
I love ♥ every dads