JUST FOR SUNDAY: 09/16/ 12Sep 16th, 2012 | By Dr Jerry D Elrod | Category: Senior Moments Blog
Saying Goodbye to Concord Lodge
Perhaps, the trees have been conversing with this senior of late. In the process of a move, we took a short break to visit our cousins on the adjoining property. Enroute, there were signs of recent storms, fallen limbs, downed fences, a gate crushed and heavily damaged, scattered debris along the roadway.
Maybe the limbs are saying, wait a while. Don’t rush. Life is too short anyway. Maybe the storm snuck in one night leaving its natural reminders that suggest we shouldn’t hurry away. Old trees dropping their limbs letting out a cry of loneliness and disappointment. After all our family has shared this land for 160 years and more. After all today is the 97th birthday of my father, caretaker and tender of these trees, this land until his death a number of years ago. After all, trees come to share in the ownership of the land they have helped nurture, shade, and protect.
Maybe the trees are saying after all you are the last generation who will own and preserve us. They may feel the deep loss of not only an appendage, but of family. Slowly and subtly, as we have packed, the reminders have begun to show themselves.
The Normalcy of Sadness
Over the past 15 years, we have transformed this idyllic spot. We sold two tracts to excellent caretakers, who have made their own remarkable contributions and improvements. We have left an architecturally splendid house, which draws its own “oohs and aahs.” We introduced Concord Lodge to this part of our county. Many have celebrated its inviting warmth. Homes have a way of capturing your heart, of stealing your emotions, of robbing your sentiment. We do not regret the changes. We only wish life could give us more years of productive caring for the land. It is not to be.
We move on now, as most must and many will. Leaving behind innumerable memories, holding on to those that won’t let us go. Life plays its mysterious tricks and sets us up for new experiences and unpredictable wonders. We will meet them, head-on and willingly. Some of what we knew we will try so desperately to seize and hold. But life will continue its pull on and away.
Thank you dear trees, thank you loving land, thank you wonderful ground, and pleasant seasons. Thank you for all of it. Thank you for keeping us in your enchanting and loving arms. Last night, as if baptizing the land for its next tenant, a soft early fall gave us a gentle rain, reminding us that the rituals of life continue.