Shirley Harring

writer, farmer advocate, madwoman

The Joshua Tree

March 21, 2016
27 comments

Joshua’s father and stepmother lived across the road from us. Like us, they were renovators, people who liked to tinker and do up old homes. They were about 3/4 of the way through their substantial renovation and had been in the street for around 2 and a half years when we arrived. They were excited to meet us when we moved in, and once discovered we had many common interests we became firm and fast friends.

Like me, Mrs Neighbour was a devoted foodie masquerading as a teacher. She was five or so years older than me, had taught most of adult life and was studying guidance counseling at Uni, working in that role in a region close by. She had met and married Mr Neighbour around 10 years before we met them. He was another 10 or so years older than her and had a son, Joshua. They raised Joshua together until just a few weeks before we met them, when Josh chose to move to Sydney to be closer to his biological mother. Filled with charm and charisma like his father, Josh worked in film and media, and quickly established strong career in Sydney, flying back for visits, full of stories of a life filled with promise.

The three of them were wonderful together, close and funny and good to be with.

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We established a very close friendship and did many things together, with Mr Neighbour seeing himself as a ‘young surrogate grandfather’ to my boy. He was a funny man, – very trendy, always with current fashions and  top ten music which cracked me up. We often went out for breakfast, sharing our love of good food, starting the day together with laughs that often bled into long weekends as we returned home to hammer, saw and demolish; and cook, eat and laugh. We had great input into each others renovations. At one point we had purchased 2 sets of silky oak french doors at auction which were keyed alike. They took one set and us the other. To this day, our key still opens the french doors of that house, and that key opens the set we installed. We were like family and shared respectful boundaries.

Joshua and Mr Neighbour were into extreme sports. Anything fast or adrenaline pumping had them hooked. And once a year Joshua, his dad and a group of men headed over to New Zealand where they took part in heli-skiing.  To heli-ski is to jump from a helicopter at a certain height which gives the feel and thrill of a jump, land on a steep surface and continue the ski down the slope. It is very fast, very expensive and very dangerous.

That year, the snowfall had been great. It was a perfect trip and some great runs on the slopes and mountains had been had. On this particular day, the sky was the clearest, deepest blue – the kind of blue that you can only get in that breath-taking cold that fresh crisp snow on a sunny still day can yield. And whilst the sun was shining and the air was still, the threat of wind and strong snow falls were predicted for later that day.

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Like so many days, so many times, so many people before them, Mr N and Joshua prepared to take yet another jump from the helicopter. It was to be the last run for the week, and for their trip. Mr N prepared himself first of the two, but last of the group.  A tap on the shoulder and out of the chopper he went, experiencing that great thrill of delight and rush of adrenaline as he landed and searched suitable tracking. He could hear Joshua’s whoop of excitement as he came down several meters behind him. A quick look over his shoulder and he could see his son’s face under the beanie and balaclava, only just hearing  his voice calling to his dad that all was OK as the wind whipped away the words… and then all of a sudden he could not see his boy at all.

Anywhere.

The sun was still shining. The sky was still that glorious blue. The stillness, the silence that had been so glorious just minutes before was now eerie and  mind numbing.

Joshua had vanished.

And as they were the last of the team to jump the line, there was no one around, anywhere.

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Joshua had fallen through the snow into a chasm. The new, soft fresh snow had covered a death trap in pretty white fluff.  White fluff that belied a long shelf of ice covered rock before stepping down into a long deep chasm into the earth. And 500 meters below that snow lay Josh on a bed of ice. With only the headlamp that all heli-skiers carry, Mr N shone the light down and reassured his son. His emergency kit contained a rope and supplies for such an event – an event heli-skiers are trained to deal with but never expect – but the rope was short by just meters. Meters.

I can only imagine the hours that followed. When Mr N retold the story it cames in moments and portions, the happenings fragmented into memory synapses. There is only so much a parent can want to remember of such an event. It appears that he had to complete the ski down the mountain to alert the officials. By the time the rescue team were dropped from a chopper, hours had passed. Miraculously, Joshua was still alive.

They slipped water and thermal warming supplies down via rope, but were hampered by the now falling snow and increasing winds. Rescue officials would not lower a harness without a tether that would sustain a possible avalanche, so again, hours passed before another chopper, equipped correctly, arrived. By that time, the winds were fierce and the snow was thick and Mr N was no longer able to stay at the glacier without risk to himself.

He had to be forcibly removed.

He called down to his son and said he would see him soon.

And as the chopper carried him away from the glacier, the mountain shook and the world caved in…

Joshua’s body lies, encased in ice, on that glacier to this day.

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In spirit, he is joined by other snow and ice sports people. Mountain climbers, heli-skiers, trekkers.  Whilst nature can keep the snow and ice and mountains at the temperature they are, Joshua remains  24 and beautiful. Every year, new snow falls and new ice is formed. The sky in winter is still that glorious, deep blue that comes with breathtaking cold. The snow falls are pure as white that blinds. Heli-skiers jump and glide and whoop to the thrill and although some may have a fleeting thought of danger and death, they are probably not even aware that they share the air with Joshua’s spirit as he glides and swoops and whoops forever.

As for my neighbours? The media circus followed them home and stalked our street for days until a new news story took it’s place. They were left with their home and memories, memories that nothing can erase.   In Sydney, a massive memorial service was held. Joshua’s parents were presented with a wonderful, majestic tree which they were allowed to bring back to Brisbane.  A tribute from The Australaisian heli-ski team, and all of Josh’s mates.

The tree lived in a pot for several months. The neighbours paid tradespeople to whip the house into completion. And the day they sold the house, she brought the tree over to me. She asked me to plant the tree in my yard as a memorial to Joshua, in a place where we had shared such good times as a family. And as we packed them up for their move to a new State to begin a new life, she reminded me to always care for the Joshua Tree.

I couldn’t bring the Joshua Tree with me when I moved.

I’m sorry, and I know you understand. But I can tell it’s story, and I promise you I will.

27 Comments

  1. Such a beautiful story and so the memory of Joshua lives on.

    I have just moved myself …..I understand all about letting go…and holding onto memories.

  2. Yes, those sorts of things are very hard to let go. We left behind plant gifts in memory of our wedding and my Beloved’s Dad. I wish we could have brought them with us.

  3. Oh I am crying. That is such a tragic tale… my heart to A and B. I cannot begin to imagine such life being snuffed out.

    That was a lovely, lovely tribute. Perhaps you can tell the new owners of it’s importance, the Joshua Tree.

    Hugs
    BB

  4. What a tragic story, but so beautifully told. My heartaches for Joshua’s parents and for you as the ‘guardian’ of the tree. I hope the new owners value The Joshua’s Tree’s significance in the future.

    Hugs to you on the emotional side of moving xoxox

  5. I saw your twitter about how this might be a bit long winded, but it was perfect. What a loving gesture to take on the care of a tree in someone’s memory. I hope the new people in your house continue to give it the care and love that you have.

  6. Such a sad story, I can tell by the way you’ve written it how much you care about The Joshua Tree. Wherever you are the purpose and meaning of the tree will never be lost, memories are the important thing and they can be passed on, as you are doing so responsibly.

  7. Oh, I feel so sad and moved by your retelling of this tragic story. But you tell it with such beauty and warm memories, that though there is great sadness, there is also great joy in the memories you all shared. I am sure the new owners of the house will indeed cherish The Joshua Tree and hopefully the story will always be passed on and retold to generations to come.

  8. Oh, Shirley, what a tragic story, such an incredible loss.

    Is there a plaque on the tree, denoting it as Joshua’s tree? The tale will certainly be told, perhaps you could write the full story down, to be passed on properly in the words of one who knows it fully, if and when the next owners move on.

    Ooh, it gives me shivers, but I am also uplifted to think Joshua is still there in a place he so loved, but I know his family would rather he was with them.

  9. I just knew this was going to be a tear-jerker … what a tragedy. That poor, poor family.
    Can’t you take a cutting from the tree? Or a seed to plant?

  10. You should put a photo of the tree with this post, and press a few leaves to put into a frame or something to take with you.

    such a tragic thing to happen.

    hugs

  11. I absolutely have tears in my eyes after reading that. I wonder if it is possible to take a cutting from the tree at all and take it with you? Your writing is so beautiful..

  12. Such a hard story to tell. such a hard parting from the tree.

  13. Please do try to take a few cuttings, and leave a copy of this story for the new minders of the Joshua Tree.

  14. Take plenty of pics and a cutting or 3, what a sad ending to a young life.

  15. Aaargh – I was hoping that it was his recovery tree.

  16. Lesley’s idea of a cutting is great… did his parents take a cutting with them?
    :-)
    BB

  17. It will continue to grow and thrive and be loved. What excellent caretakers you have been, of the tree, of the person and love that it represents.

  18. ..and you tell that story well.

    P.S You may be able to take a cutting of the tree with you depending on the species (most aussie natives can be grown from a cutting). I’m a botanist and have some experience in growing trees from cuttings …let me know if you want more info….

  19. I have knots in my stomach and throat. Really makes one think about what we have now.

  20. I have tears in my eyes and knots in my stomach reading this, like those above me. Half way through I got an uneasy feeling about where your story was going. God bless Joshua and his parents. Getting up every morning and going on must be the hardest thing in the world to do. Although they must take some comfort from knowing their son died doing something he loved so much. Do, do do take cuttings and root them. You might even send one to your friends………..This was beautifully written.

  21. What a beautiful and sad story.

  22. Shirley,
    You told Joshua’s story beautifully- poignantly- hopefully you will be able to take a piece of the Joshua tree with you to transplant into your new home.
    It is a parent’s greatest fear – to lose their beloved child. Joshua is forever remembered and loved by you and yours- those memories are something special. Joshua sounds like a wonderful young man.
    I hope all goes well with the move- wherever you are, you will carry the memories of your good friends and Joshua.
    Warmest regards,
    Anna

  23. You MUST publish these stories eventually Shirley. They are just so great.

  24. Hi! I’m Sheri from the BBAW Awards committee. I wanted to let you know that this post has been nominated for a 2009 BBAW Award. There is nothing further for you to submit! Congratulations.

    Sheri

    • Shirley once again this is wonderful but so very sad. I get what you are going through as we left such memories behind when we immigrated here from Scotland. Remember they are always in your heart forever and thank you for sharing.

  25. What a powerful story this is Shirley- so difficult for the loved ones of Joshua. Thanks for sharing it again.. It is a reminder to honor and love the important people in our lives. Warmest regards, Anna

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