Today I said goodbye to an old friend — the big cherry tree that has stood sentry over our house long before we called it home. When we moved to this house in April 2003, the cherry tree was in full bloom. Its enormous pink blossoms were feathery and beautiful. Falling all over the driveway, we tracked those petals into the home and continued to do so for the next 23 springs.
Our kids grew up with this tree. They climbed its large, low branches. It begged for them to climb it. When the kids started school, every spring they’d pick a bouquet of blossoms and we’d wrap them in wet paper towels and tin foil so they could bring them to their teachers. A little something to brighten their day — the teachers and the kids. At Easter time, the Easter bunny would hide eggs in the big crevices the branches created. Perfect hiding places that were high enough to keep the kids from spotting them right away, but low enough that they could scamper up and yell, “I found one!” This tree was the perfect backdrop to first-day-of-school photos, and later, prom and graduation photos. It was always there … always standing guard.
In the fall the leaves would turn a beautiful fiery orange and then its limbs would hold our Halloween ghosts. In the winter, after all the leaves had fallen, its large knobby trunk and branches would be wrapped in twinkling Christmas lights. The snow would come and cover its branches and then, every spring, those big blossoms would return, along with the carpet of petals.
Sometimes I’d curse the petal-ly mess since they were so easily tracked inside, but I loved that tree. From the day we first saw the home to today, when I said goodbye.
The past few years we knew the tree was getting old and tired. This last year it became very evident that the tree wasn’t going to make it. Half of it was dead while the other half still bloomed its beautiful flowers. We took to calling it our Whomping Willow after the big angry tree in the Harry Potter films. Its limbs reached upward and out and it made for the perfect Halloween tree—only it was summertime.
I hemmed and hawed not wanting to say goodbye. I remembered the year we had it trimmed. I came home from work and saw that the arborist had trimmed it back so much that I thought he had killed it. I cried. Literally cried. He had, in fact, done a great job and the tree continued to provide us with its beauty for many years to come.
But if I cried when it was simply trimmed, how was I going to handle it coming down completely? I think the loss of this tree represents other losses that we’ve had these last several years. The loss of my father and mother, of Vince’s stepdad and father, of some of our beloved dogs, and the loss of our children being little. They’re both out of the house now and following their own path. That’s a good thing, I know! But it’s hard for a mom to recognize that her babies are no longer babies and that time passes … no matter what you do.
Last night, the night before the tree was to come down, I asked Vince if maybe we should wait until spring to have it removed. After all, its lack of leaves wouldn’t look as bad in the winter.
But I knew it was time.
Vince promised me we would plant another cherry tree next spring. We will. But in the meantime, I can’t help but to say a very weepy goodbye to this magnificent tree that provided my family so much beauty and joy. I will truly miss it and everything it held in its beautiful guard.
But I did save a piece. The crew and I picked a small section that shows some of its rings. Perhaps we can have a keepsake made so a piece of the tree can always be with us.
