On Dec. 27, 2007, we received a phone call from Curt’s mother. Her brother, Harold Kohler, had died suddenly, apparently from a sudden heart attack brought on by shoveling snow in his driveway on the outskirts of Minneapolis.
Upon learning of their grandfather’s death, Harold’s two grandchildren reacted very differently. His 10-year-old grandson, Ben, openly expressed his grief with tears. But his 12-year-old granddaughter, Allison, turned quietly and shut herself in her room. As her mother describes it, she emerged silently about five minutes later bearing the following poem, Willow Tree.
If I could picture you as anything,
I would pick a willow tree.
So graceful, sweet, and kind,
Giving lots of love to me.
Giving shelter to every creature,
That tries to hide from the rain.
So strong, that when you get chopped down,
You feel not any pain.
Just sitting there so peaceful,
Letting the wind carry you around.
Always holding a smile,
and never once a frown.
Your trunk so big, your leaves so small,
Your branches swing left to right.
If you take one look, you will see,
The most beautiful, man in sight.
Upon reading the poem a second time, I began to see this image of the willow tree planted outside Harold’s home. In American folk art traditions, the willow tree was used in memorial paintings and needlework as a symbol of mourning. But to Ally, the willow tree simply represented Grandpa Harry.
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