Alex and the old Apple Tree 

“When Karina told me she was seeking a person to help prune her trees in the garden, I was delighted to know an arborist who could be a good fit. I immediately thought of my friend Alex, a hardworking person with a big heart, very intentional and careful with details, loves & is fascinated with trees, and would deeply appreciate the kind of conversation that comes with knowing Karina. When I remember time with Alex, the long meandering thoughtful conversations have the same energy as talking with Karina. 

 

I was excited at the beginning of their friendship - matching or connecting people doesn't always work out - but their appreciation & admiration for each other was a dream come true. When Alex died unexpectedly that first year of the pandemic, it was absolutely heartbroken. Despite navigating the grief & unknowingness of the pandemic, Alex was not a person I expected to lose anytime soon. What nurtured me most through this difficult time was returning to the garden every week. Walking up the winding stairways, pulling weeds with Karina, and imagining Alex in the apple tree or the big oaks. I learned how we can love and be in relationship with people through land, even if they have passed and no longer in our physical world.”  (Nicky’s words) 

 

I am forever grateful for Nicky introducing me to her friend Alex. 33 years younger, the age difference did not hinder us to connect deeply. Meeting the first time he admired the big live oaks, and laughed with astonishment when I showed him the swing and flew high into the trees. As a professional tree pruner, he was used to climbing into canopies, hanging suspended. Alex loved the whole grounds, skillfully and highly efficiently pruning bushes and trees. We’d work together, and talk about God and the world. The way he made the cuttings extra small so they could all fit all into my green can, was like a magic trick, impressive. He revived my old apple tree. And that fall, it carried hundreds of Golden Delicious apples, enough to feed a whole village.  Each year the harvest got more abundant, to the delight of squirrels, birds, and humans. 

 

Alex was only 34 years old, his sudden death from heart attack stunned everyone around him. He was slim and super fit – the daring sparkle in his blue eyes was often infused with a dreamy quality. Bereft by the news, I bought a small wind chime and hung it in his memory into the old apple tree he had pruned in our first year of friendship. Painting his name on the clapper, I knew that from now on Alex would speak to us through the wind.  When having lunch at the small table beneath the tree, he will chime in often, and we’ll say: “See, Alex agrees.” Nicky and I will smile, nodding...

 

 

At the time, I also felt the need to make a small community ritual. So, four weeks after his death on October 13, 2020, I invite Nicky and a few of Alex’s friends over for an impromptu garden memorial. Everyone is asked to bring something to hang in the apple tree in memory of Alex, my chime already there. That Sunday afternoon I also suspend my heavy brass tube from a sturdy branch, and I play it till the whole area, tree and all of us, are vibrating. Then, while I am reading aloud a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke, it starts pouring out of nowhere. We allow ourselves to get soaked, our tears mingling with rain drops and smiles, grief and gratitude. We feel awed and blessed – Alex is showing up as the much awaited first rain of the season! After this ritual – a fairly new thing for this group of people in their early thirties – we eat, reminisce, share stories. Everyone lingering for a long time in Karinaland which is by now flooded in warm golden sunlight. The spirit of Alex present, alive forever… 

 

Thank you, Nicky, for sharing so we could make a joint memorial entry for Alex –  

two years later our hearts still tender …