Peacock Path is what I've decided to name the path that winds through the woods between the clearing at my house and the clearing at Bonnie's new cottage.
I'm having trouble finding the words to get started on my thoughts, so I'll simply begin with the physical description. I think of the path as having three legs - south, east, south. The first leg starts at the edge of the clearing on the south side of my house, heading 120 feet further south into the woods. At that point, it intersects with a very old established logging trail that loops around a 10 acre section of the property. The second leg jags east along a 120 foot section of the the old logging trail. The third leg jags south again for 200 feet before emerging at the edge of the clearing at Bonnie's new cottage.
The first leg of the path was established in 1998 to get to Andy's memorial. The grief at the tragic loss that occurred there never truly ends, but it changes and has mellowed over time. The story is where the relevance of naming it Peacock Path plays in.
For five years or so in the 1990s, two friends that Mike worked with at the Cadillac dealership would come to Aspen Hill almost every weekend from early April through the end of October to ride their dirt bikes. They spent hours grooming the trails, making jumps, etc. and once that was done, they would suit up in all their gear and ride. It was a hobby that both were very passionate about. Then tragedy struck. We don't know exactly how it happened, but Andy hit a tree and broke his neck. He died instantly. It was on a straight-away close to the house, the tree was a small sapling about 3 inches around, and speed wasn't a factor. He was wearing his helmet and every other bit of protective gear possible. All we can think of is that he had been looking backwards over his shoulder to see how far Bobby was behind him and hit that sapling in a way that was probably one in a million chance that would cause his neck to break. Mike, Bobby, and I were in shock and Andy's parents were devastated.
On what would have been Andy's 29th birthday, his parents and Bobby came to the house to celebrate his life. The funeral had taken place days before, but we all still needed a lot of comfort from each other. I had gone to the grocery store to get things for the celebration meal, and as I got out of the car, there was a loud piercing shrill that scared the you-know what out of me. I looked up and high in the tree above me was a male peacock with his tail feathers displayed in all their glory. It was beautiful and I was hoping it would stay so the others could see it. As Mike, then Bobby, and then Andy's parents arrived, it squawked at each in turn, with the loudest and most piercing shrill at his mother. She put her hands to her heart as she burst into tears, proclaiming that it was a sign. She said she always called Andy her little peacock and he would strut about and grin at her. The peacock stayed throughout our celebration, squawked as everyone left, and then was gone. We had never seen a peacock anywhere near here before nor have we seen one since. Andy's parents talked to their pastor about it, and he said many cultures believe that peacocks are a sign of resurrection. In fact, a lot of cultures believe birds in general have significance between this world and the next. All I know is that it WAS other-worldly and gave Andy's mother great comfort. I believe with all my heart that it was somehow Andy's way of letting us know that everything was going to be ok.
We have kept in contact with Andy's parents over the years and they make annual visits here from their place in southern Virginia on his birthday and at Christmas. The first leg of the path leads to a memorial plaque, a bench, and an angel statue at the accident site and they sit in the quiet woods and remember their boy.
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