She stood regally for fifty plus years I am told. The last 10 years on my watch. Guarding the front southwest corner of our garage.

Towering a majestic 70 feet into the air with a drip line 20 feet in all directions from the trunk. Home to many of nature's creatures. Squirrels, birds, a hawk on occasion, and two different raccoons would climb her silently at night causing my motion sensor lights to emit. 

A massive 63" circumference at the base of her trunk which branched into twin spires about 5 feet up and then spread into the full specter of her being. The earth was her throne and she sat royally in dominion over her corner.

Over the years her roots lifted sidewalks and tilted fences. She even assaulted the driveway leaving several cross-cracks that meandered like tributaries along the surface. None of that mattered, though. The life she gave and the shade she provided settled any score to which there would be debt. 

When she first broke earth and sought sunlight, I was still in high school. Vietnam was still a war. Mini-skirts were invented. Star Trek made its debut on TV. The house we live in wasn't even built yet. She became the queen of the neighborhood. Not the tallest, but certainly the most impressive overseer on the cul-de-sac. A tree my grandson chased ants around. And hid behind while I pretended I didn't know where he was. 

We had to kill her today. 

She was struggling. The life she gave also took hers. Boring beetles. Termites. Blight. Aches and pains of being bent and twisted by too many storms. Her branches heavy and foreboding. I don't think she knew what was coming.

So they showed up this morning. Five of them with their horrible machines. Gas filled weapons of destruction. Gnashing teeth and grinding gears that ended her piece by piece. She didn't fight back. Her life of fifty years was ended in five hours.

I stare out into the driveway now at a few selected sections of wood yet to be split and set in cords for a winter fire. Even in her death, she will give warmth until her last ember. I won't burn her. Someone else will have to.

She gave everything she had for as long as she could. No one could ask more. Her throne sits empty now. My family and I will miss her.