Losing the Watson Tree

So, as most of you know, for the last few weeks we have been in the process of building a workshop type building at our house for Mark.  This will also house the boat, which will remove it from the harsh outdoor elements during winter (assuming winter actually shows up in years to come...).  Most of you also know that in October of 2009 we had to make the HORRIBLY difficult decision to put our precious and sweet dog Watson to rest.  These two things went seemingly unrelated until Sunday evening. 

After losing our dear Watson, I decided that in addition to the little engraved memorial rock my mom got us to put there, that it would bring me some kind of peace to plant a tree in the back yard next to where he was laid to rest.  It became known to Mark and I as 'The Watson Tree'.  In the process of planning this workshop, I was well aware of the fact that this building was going to be cutting it very close to the Watson Tree.  But, for some reason it didn't worry me all that much - which looking back was completely careless on my part.  Going back to the tree itself, well it didn't exactly thrive after we planted it...it remained this skinny bare stick standing about 3 or 4 feet up out of the ground that typically produced a whopping 3 leaves per year at the most (in the fall when the leaves were turning and falling, Mark and I would jokingly talk about going out to rake our LEAF up from under the Watson Tree).  When we started planning the building and the topic of the tree's future came up, Mark wasn't all that concerned because in his opinion, the tree was dead...but my argument was that it just had not hit its prime yet, but that I had a strong feeling that this was going to be 'its year.' 

So, you can probably imagine where this story is going...  The ground-leveling guy (for my lack of ability to recall his actual title) had been here several times leveling the ground for the building and re-routing the water drainage to go around the back of where the shop would be.  Then, they came and in ONE day, framed and built that whole building!  One day, four guys, wow!  BUT, the ground-leveling guy was not finished, he had to come in the day after the building was completed to work on the ground around the building.  This is where things apparently go bad.  The tree had survived the entire process up to this point and I was no longer concerned about it, I mean they had already build the damn shop...the Watson Tree was home free, right??  Wrong. 

Sunday evening, we had some friends stop by and we all walked back there to show them the shop...Mark, the proud papa, wanted them to see his new baby....and why shouldn't he?  He designed it and spent a lot of time and money getting this thing done.  As we stood there talking, I realized something was missing from my line of sight, my tree...my Watson Tree...was gone.  I said something at the time, but not wanting our friends to think I was a complete lunatic, I curbed my desire to yell explicitives about the ground-leveling tractor man who had apparently bull-dozed down my Watson Tree.  I was okay on the outside, but on the inside I was becoming Clark W. Griswald in the scene where he flips out over his Christmas tree going up in flames. 

But, as a couple days have now passed, I just cannot seem to put it behind me.  I think the reason I am still dwelling over it is because that tree symbolized something for me.  It was a living, growing thing that would memorialize the life of the wonderful dog that we had to let go.  I considered Watson my baby...he was really my first dog.  I bonded with that dog from day one.  Watson went nearly everywhere with Mark and I, especially when we lived in Bloomington.  We walked the neighborhoods, we hiked the trails in the summer..spring...fall...and even in the snow, we were watching the very moment that he figured out how to swim...when he ran far enough into the water that he had to sink or swim - and he swam, like a champ.  That dog loved to swim.  So it seemed so fitting to mark his memory with a tree, he was a dog that loved nature.  But now that tree, that symbol of Watson and his love for the outdoors is gone.  It is like there is a hole in my heart.  Not because I can't plant a new tree, but I think the hardest part for me is that the ground-leveling tractor man probably, in all honesty, didn't even see the tree in his path or even realize that the had razed it into the ground.  I know that in my head.  But in my heart I still keep asking, how could he not have known it was there??  Didn't he see it the first few times that he came?  Why didn't he tell us that the tree was going to be a problem?  And more painfully, I keep asking myself why I didn't tie a bright orange flag around the tree so it couldn't be missed.  I cannot undo the destruction that was done to our Watson Tree.  I cannot undo the guilt that comes with not taking more care with it.  But deep down inside, I now see the true realization...I cannot undo losing Watson.  No tree, or rock, or anything can undo that.  That is the real pain, I now realize.  It was never really about the tree.  It was about those feelings that losing the tree drudged back up...the way I felt the day we lost our Watson.