08/09/2026
Not Just a Box
When I started thinking about what I wanted to say today, I kept coming back to something that, at first, might seem a little strange—a tree.
This oak tree this box was born from began its life on a section of land consisting of two lots on the west side of Crescent Lake, owned by Mr. and Mrs. Buster and Jewels Covington.
In 1978, we moved onto the property next door. Some years passed before those two lots were purchased and added to what we came to know as Strickland Hill.
If it could only talk…
That old oak bore witness to everyone from Pop down to his great-grandchildren reeling fish in from the lakeside.
It stood by as we slid down the hill underneath its branches in the early '80s, back when we used to get good snow.
It witnessed my oldest sister jumping from a moving car while being attacked by yellow jackets.
It could testify to how awesome Connie was at throwing a party and equally astonished to see how quickly her crew could do a spotless clean up the following morning.
It witnessed a near head-on collision in the driveway when I was on a dirt bike going way too fast and nearly ate the front end of Mom's old Buick.
Later, it provided shade over Granny's back porch for several years before doing the same for Connie.
It watched two of my nephews play and grow up, followed by my own two daughters.
It just always stood there—watching and looking over the property.
And as everyone knows, Pop loved his plants and his trees.
Over the years, I have seen several trees fall or be cut down for various reasons, and every one of them always broke Pop's heart.
For reasons unknown, this particular oak tree passed on sometime within the last year and needed to be cut down.
So it was done just a month or two ago.
At the time, none of us knew this would be the last tree Pop would have to watch come down.
I felt it only fitting to take a portion of that oak tree and turn it into something to assist in carrying my father from this life into whatever comes next.
There is some comfort in knowing that Dad will be resting in a small piece of home.
But what I didn't know at the time was that this old oak would also help me find some peace with the loss of my Dad.
Because this isn't just a box.
It's a piece of home.
It's a piece of Strickland Hill.
It's a piece of the place where our family made so many memories together.
And in a strange way, that old tree carried something with it all those years.
It carried our memories.
It watched us grow.
It watched Pop grow older.
It watched his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren come along.
It was there for the good times, the funny times, the crazy times, and all the ordinary days that we never realized would someday become memories we would treasure.
And now, in a small way, that tree is helping carry Pop one last time.
I don't know what comes next for you, Pop.
I don't know what waits for any of us on the other side of this life.
But I do know what I hope for you.
I hope you are no longer in pain.
I hope you are at peace.
And I truly hope that wherever you are, you can carry your thoughts and your memories with you.
I hope you remember the lake.
I hope you remember the hill.
I hope you remember the trees and the plants you loved so much.
You spent your life watching over your family, just like that old oak watched over Strickland Hill.
And now, Dad, it's time for us to carry you.
Not just in this box.
But in our hearts.
In our memories.
In the stories we'll tell.
And in all the little pieces of home that will always remind us of you.
So when we look at this, I hope we don't see just a box.
I hope we see Pop.
I hope we see home.
And I hope we remember that even though the old oak is gone, and Pop is gone, neither one is really gone from us.
Because some things don't stop being a part of you just because you can't see them anymore.
They're carried forward.
And that's what we'll do with you, Pop.
We'll carry you forward.
We love you and Happy Birthday.
Rest easy, Dad.
