Snow and Ashes

She walked down the trail, the white sand trail surrounded by green pines. Her golden blonde hair shone, backlit by the sun. As always, there was a bright smile on her face... a smile that could make Scrooge himself smile back.

"Hi Sandy," she said happily. "Hi," I said back, breaking into a wide grin. Elizabeth always had that affect on people; she made people smile. She passed me on the trail, and I looked back at her. Her long blonde hair bounced down the trail as she walked back toward camp.

Elizabeth was funny. She was gorgeous, no doubt about that. But when we went to our wilderness survival and nature awareness classes¹ you would expect a tall, thin woman like her to camp near everyone else. I don't know why; maybe with her beauty, she just didn't seem all that "rugged". But no, she camped about as far away from the center of camp as you could go without camping out in the swamp itself. Totally isolated. And she loved it out there, especially when she could listen to the peeper frogs in the spring.

Every morning it was the same. "Where's Elizabeth? Did she hear the call for breakfast? Someone go out and get her." Often as not, I volunteered to jog down the trail, turn left onto another trail, and peer into the undergrowth, looking for her debris hut ².

"Elizabeth," I would call out softly. She would stir inside her debris hut, poke her tousled blonde hair outside, and squint at me. "Breakfast is ready," I'd say. She would say "Oh, ok, be right there", and soon afterwards would be at the camp kitchen, eating her hot oatmeal and raisins.

Her ability to observe nature, "feel" nature beyond just the physical, was admirable. She practiced what she preached about knowing, respecting, and getting close to nature.

No one ever had a bad word to say about her. Even though she was beautiful both inside and out, it took time for love to find her. Eventually in the classes, she did finally find love. She married a man who loved her dearly, who worshipped the ground she walked on, and they lived together in California, attending classes and reunions of friends when they could.

One day the news came. "Elizabeth has leukemia." I knew practically nothing about adult onset leukemia, but over the next few years I learned more than I wanted. Elizabeth was young when she got leukemia, in her mid- to late twenties. Elizabeth grew thinner and thinner, becoming almost skeletal. Many years later, I got the news that Elizabeth had died.

She and I and so many of the rest of us had spent so much time in a particular area in the forested Pine Barrens of New Jersey. In that area was one particular tree that had produced a miracle. Years before, that tree had been dead or dying... gray dead branches, no leaves, no greenery. Then one day it was struck by lightning. Ever since then, that tree had flourished. The branches revived, the greenery came back. It was a special tree to many of us, and more so to Elizabeth.

For you see, Elizabeth had spent a night there at the base of that tree, alone. No tent, no food, nothing but a blanket. It was after she had found out she had leukemia. I don't know what happened that night. No doubt she prayed. Perhaps she asked "why" or asked for guidance. Whatever happened, I think she found peace that night. I think she touched God.

It was winter when Elizabeth died, cold and snowy in New Jersey. Elizabeth's husband flew to New Jersey to meet a small group of us out in the woods near the "lightning" tree. We pulled up in a couple of trucks and got out to make the short trip into the woods.

It had just snowed. The ground was blanketed with fresh fallen snow - white and quiet, sounds muffled by the snow. No one said much of anything. After a brief memorial among our small group, we all went to the tree and stood in a circle. Elizabeth had requested her ashes be strewn here, here next to the tree that she had sat under that one night I suspect she found peace.

Her husband opened the red velvet bag containing Elizabeth's ashes and walked slowly in a circle around the tree. He poured the black ashes out onto the white snow... the starkness of the black ashes on the fresh white snow was startling. Here was what was left of my friend. Where once golden hair and smiles had been, now there were ashes blacker-than-black on snow whiter-than-white.

I hung my head, unable to take my eyes off the black ashes and white snow. It burned into my memory. My tears mingled with the snow. When the group finally broke up, I walked away without a word. Then for some reason, I ran.

I ran as fast as I could through the woods without any idea where to; I just ran. I could cry better that way, running so fast so that no one could see how much I had loved. I ran across the frozen dirt road into the woods and finally stopped. I don't remember if I collapsed on my knees or not. But I might as well have. Eventually I walked back to the trucks, my face red and frozen with tears. No one spoke on the ride home.

Occasionally people touch our lives ever so briefly but leave so much with us. So much beauty of spirit. So much energy, so many smiles. Elizabeth was a person like that. I wish I am lucky enough to touch one person a tenth of how much she touched so many lives. Rest well, Elizabeth. You are finally home.

¹ Tracker School

² Survival shelter, see Wilderness Survival: How to Build a Shelter that Can Save Your Life