“Redwood Clearing” by: Jeffrey Favero © 2014
Last time you flew to visit, son, we walked our favorite woods. We both love its magic. That perfect June morning, we journeyed deep into that ancient wood, to our favorite spot — our secreted old-growth clearing.
The morning sun softly filtered through the forest canopy, drifting golden into our sacred space, setting your handsome face aglow. A breeze rustled the treetops, whispering of eternity, casting a spell.
Awed by the splendor, we talked quietly, leaning on the downed Douglas that’s slumbered there, perhaps centuries, peaceful in its earthen repose. You were eighteen, off to college soon, so excited — I was beaming pride.
In that moment, time suspended, life aligned for a perfect memory — my very last of many I treasure of you. Three weeks later you were tragically killed. These memories were left here with the trees, in our clearing, where we talk — still.
rob kistner © 2019
Heartbreaking. You may still have the clearing but I know you would rather have your son. A very sad read.
I have him alive still in my heart Toni, and he is even more alive for me when I visit that clearing.
well written and very moving
Thank you Timothy!
Thank you for sharing this with us. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but I’m happy you’ve kept his memory alive and are constantly reminded by this magical place you used to share.
You are most welcome Vivian. I love to think, write, and speak of my son Aaron. It keeps him brightly alive for me!
So powerful it is painful to read; empathy trumps protocol and parameters. Because I know you, I could see the end coming, but that did not lessen the emotional toll it took on me. I know that tragedy makes us better poets, but revisiting them always costs us something. My first effort today was not fiction either. My second one follows the prompt more devoutly.
Thank you Glenn, I appreciate your graciousness brother! Keeping Aaron active and present in my mind, and being grateful for having him in my life, keeps him alive for me
I imagine that you feel his presence with every visit.
Very deeply, both emotionally and viscerally Ken!
Rob wishing when you stepped out of the clearing you and your son took the magic protection of the space with you. So sorry for your loss and his passing.
It was just he and I and the magnificence of nature. It the last place on earth that we ever embraced, while deeply expressing our love Lisa. I told him how proud I was of who he was. That next morning he flew off. That private and beautifully intimate moment is truly indelibly etched, quite vividly, in my heart and soul — because it was magic, and will ever be. It is an eternal point in space and time, in an otherwise impermanent fleeting world.
Heartbreaking, Rob. I knew what was coming, but even so, I wish the story had a different ending. Thank you for sharing the story. I suppose that also shares his memory. I hope it brings some comfort walking amongst those trees. <3
The place stokes my memories of him to brilliance Merril. I enjoy writing and thinking about him, and do so often. There is sadness, but there is also joy — and a presence provided by the recall. It took years to get past tge pain, to this point of bittersweetness. It keeps him with me, and that is precious. My gratitude for having him in my life is boundless.
Oh my, this pulls at my heartstrings. Your loss is genuinely felt. Though he is gone he lives internally within your heart, here you
will feel the beat of his life.
Peace and memories…
Oh True — he is not gone, he waits to talk to me in our clearing. It is here I find him when i am able to visit.
Beautiful Rob. A very sentimental piece.
Love this: A breeze rustled the treetops, whispering of eternity, casting a spell.
Thank you so much Dwight, you’re a kind man. it is the spell that enables my son and I to meet and talk. It is truly magic. We are both very present in our moments together.
My eyes are brimming with tears, Rob. Can’t say much else at the moment.
Sorry to make you cry Kim. That clearing is still beautiful and it is still a precious spot to me. The memories that visit me there as I visit in my personal way with Aaron are no longer painful, that has subsided over the years. They are bittersweet, but they provide me much comfort and peace. I love to be present with my memories of my son. I now focus on the many that bring me joy. I don’t get to visit our special clearing as much now, given my failing health, but I have access to an all terrain mobility scooter, so I go a few times a year.
Rob, I lived in a Redwood forest 19 years ago and also lost the one dearest to me while living there.. so I identify with your story. I, too, carry the memory of that place with me. Well done.
I hope for you Judy, that the pain and sadness has been replaced by warm, loving, positive memories. It took me a number of years to get to that place, but I am so grateful to be in this emotional space now. My visits to our clearing have a tinge of bittersweetness, but it is mostly an uplifting experience of love and tears of happiness visiting with my son Aaron there. His presence is tangible there, in our sanctuary.
To have such a place to remember him before is worth more than a precious headstone… the clearing speaks of his life, the headstone his after… so very very sad to read.
Yes Björn, my Aaron is alive to me in our special clearing. And for me, it is not a place of sadness. It is a wonderful place of comfort, peace, and a joy of the spirit.
So very sad!
But a beautiful love! 🙂
Such a tragic ending, but he lives on in your heart.
Those voices will always echo through the trees. A beautiful elegy.