The Tree

Earlier this week I got a message from my Dad that said, “the tree is almost in bloom, you should come see it soon.”

I planted this tree, a weeping cherry blossom, years ago in honor of my Nana.  The Nana with whom I shared a birthday and with whom Margot shares a name.

It has become a place where my family often gathers for photos, or where we can stop for a moment and visit with Nana when we need some comfort.  Her grave is in Puerto Rico, so it’s difficult to visit that spot, but we tie ribbons around the tree during the holidays and take great joy and comfort in it’s beauty each spring when, for a week, it is pink and resplendent.

We knew even before Margot was here, even before we knew that she would bear my Nana’s name, that we would take a photo of our child among the pink blossoms during our first spring together.

It seems somehow so appropriate to me that the tree which stands as a tribute to someone so dear to all of us, and as a reminder that life is beautiful even in our sorrow, would come into bloom the same day I learned of the death of a friend.

I am reminded of a quote about why you want a physicist to speak at your funeral.  About how energy is neither created nor destroyed in this universe, so the energy that was Nana could now be the same energy that makes those flowers bloom every spring.

I can find comfort in that.  Knowing that Margot will never meet her namesake, but she will be able to appreciate those pink blooms every springtime.  Knowing that when our daughter inevitably loses someone she loves, we can point to that tree and talk about the energy that flows through this world.  We can explain that we are all made of the energy of those that came before us and that for centuries after we are gone, that energy will continue to bring life.