Over the Rock Wall Through the Valley to the Cottonwood Tree

        Springing over the rock wall, Derek barely cleared the structure. Glancing back, he murmured, “Still got it!”, although he was less than convinced in the words he had just muttered. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, and a slight chill could be felt as this last day of December waned. A minute later, Janey’s petite frame clambered over. Pausing momentarily, she smiled to herself as she recalled the amusement of challenging herself when she was a teenager to balance atop the waist-high barrier weaving through the valley behind the family farms. Once a stalwart delineation between the Thompson’s field and the wide-open grassland, the aged wall showed the deterioration from sun, rain, and snow, causing some sections to collapse. Still other portions stood resolute as variegated green and white English ivy clung to its sides like old bubble gum dried on the pavement.

        Catching Derek’s gaze jolted her to refocus. She pulled the tiny box in close to her side, and lagging a fair distance behind him, sauntered through the dried grassland toward the lone majestic cottonwood tree.

        Boasting in solitude was this magical place where they had spent endless hours planning their future. Momentarily distracting her from today’s purpose, fond recollections floated like clouds through her mind of a bygone time. Those tender moments when they would stroll to their rendezvous and, cradled in his arms, she would lean against him into the indomitable timber as her fingertips traced their initials carved inside the heart in the cottonwood’s bark.

        They had fallen for each other … hard and missed no time making plans for their forever together future. Chuckling, they dismissed relatives’ caution that getting married young was foolhardy. Her granddaddy, quick to offer guidance whether asked for or not, would remind her that “Love is sweet, lil’ Janey, but life is long – better make sure you are ready for both!”

        On June 10, 2017, she traded her last name for Derek’s, and in her Grandaddy’s backyard, neighbors, friends, and family all danced until dawn, celebrating the happy occasion. Ten months later, Jonathan “JoJo” Micah Thompson entered their world. JoJo was an easy baby, and neither minded the diaper changing nor the late-night feedings. Many days they would grab a blanket and the baby’s diaper bag, and their newly expanded family would romp in the meadow just over the rock wall down by this old cottonwood. Derek had etched JoJo’s initials inside a smaller tiny heart near theirs in the old tree. Never tiring, Derek would retell the story of how he fell in love with JoJo’s mama.

        At eighteen months, little JoJo came down with a high fever that lasted nearly two weeks. Their first major marital conflict, Derek and Janey debated over taking him to the doctor. Janey, a free spirit and full of optimism, was certain it was a thing that all children go through. “Let nature take its course. It’s obviously the right choice.” she would cajole. “Money is tight, and if we wait just one more day, you’ll see. He’ll get over it. Have faith, my love!”

        Derek vocalized his concerns over his baby boy’s struggles, countering her position with assurances that he would pick up extra work to help pay for the medical bills. Although not in agreement to wait, Derek ultimately acquiesced, leaving a taint of resentment buried within his heart.  

        JoJo pulled through, but he didn’t spring back like other children his age. An easy target for any virus, he experienced severe symptoms with lingering recovery times. Often having to quarantine JoJo from friends, their home became like an asylum with the hope of skating past the current round of illness. A short stint in the local pre-school proved futile. “Too many germs,” Janey insisted, so they withdrew him before Thanksgiving.

        In September 2023, JoJo contracted pneumonia. Exhausted from their little boy’s ceaseless bouts with struggling health, this time they took JoJo to the hospital. Although this trip was only a matter of days following his first symptoms, it was too late. This would be JoJo’s final round of fighting illness.

        Grief clung to their hearts like the ivy on the rock wall as they dealt with the sorrow and pain of losing their beloved child. Like instant replay, they armchair quarterbacked what they could have done, should have done, frequently blaming the other. At times cruel words all but suffocated any care they had left for each other. Dreading the inevitable, both found ways to contribute to the delay in his burial. Their friends agreed that they needed time, and lots of it, to work through the loss.

        But this day had finally come. December 31st. They agreed that his final resting place would be just over the rock wall and through the green valley at this very cottonwood tree where he was conceived in love.

        With Derek’s hands wrapped around Janey’s, they set the pine box down under the barren limbs of the tree. Derek winced as he gazed down at this little casket. Such a trivial vessel holding the ashes of their forever loved boy. Following a shared prayer and a promise that they would see him again, they released his ashes.

        Turning to each other, Derek pulled Janey in close as their bodies fell back against the cottonwood and their leaking hearts spilled out as a river of sorrow stained their cheeks. “I love you,” she whispered. Derek nodded, as he sobbed into her shoulder. It felt as though time was generous, seeming to slow to a crawl if only for this moment.

        They had given today much thought; had spent countless hours in introspection. Through tears and angered outbursts, they had fought through the emotions and accusations that had enslaved them and nearly toppled them over. Grappling with the reality of their lost one, nights often ended with ugly weeping. But, day by day, night by night, argument over argument, they both made their peace with JoJo’s death. Resolution had come through many facets ultimately bringing clarity and peace. Theirs would not be a story of his death, but rather of the joy and life that they had shared with him.

        Somber, yet peaceful, Janey slid her hand inside Derek’s. Then unhurried yet deliberate, they began their departure, leaving the emptied pine box under the engraved hearts at their cottonwood tree in the green valley just over the rock wall.

Like the tree, they would stand tall.

Like the rock wall, they would not crumble under the weather of life’s events.

Like the ivy, they would allow the pain and hardship of life to be intertwined with the joys and memories holding their bond all the stronger.

And like this meadow, they would allow freedom of spirit to triumph.