My Dear Tree,
I still drive past the place where you once stood.
One part of me no longer wants to pass by. The empty space hurts too much to see. Another part feels that driving through would honor you and continue our connection.
I am still learning how to love a place that was once dear to my heart and now carries both gratitude and sorrow.
Last weekend, I went with my family to see some car parts that my husband had found online. Honestly, I did not want to go. I felt tired and would have preferred to stay home. But I decided to join my family anyway and bring myself fully into the day.
We drove to a quiet, beautiful neighborhood filled with trees and gardens. The driveway was crowded with vehicles, both modern cars and classic restorations. My husband and the owner quickly became absorbed in conversation, so I stepped out of the truck and went for a walk.
As I wandered down the street, I noticed a tree ahead of me.
Something about the trunk felt familiar.
When I looked up, I froze.
It was a sweetgum tree.
I stood quietly beneath the branches and listened to the leaves moving in the wind. The familiar shape of the leaves, the green clusters of seeds hanging from the branches, everything felt so close and dear.
And yet, it was not you.
The scent of the green leaves drifted through the warm afternoon air. Instantly, I was transported back to the place where I stood staring at the dark patch of earth, shocked and heartbroken after your loss.
For a moment, I felt close to you again.
That day, I thought I was going to look at car parts with my family.
Instead, I found a sweetgum tree.
The tree in that quiet neighborhood felt familiar, almost like meeting an old friend. Yet I knew I was not standing beneath your branches.
As I stood there, I realized something.
Love recognizes familiar forms.
Sometimes the distance between loss and presence becomes thinner. Not gone, but thinner. And when it does, something inside of us softens.
The relationship did not end with our physical separation.
I am still talking to you, my friend.
Still noticing sweetgum leaves.
Still carrying branches.
Still remembering the crow on the crown.
Still feeling gratitude.
Still loving.
And perhaps that is what love does.
It continues.
Even when the beloved is no longer standing where they once were.