Last June my lovely friends bought me a small cherry tree, at around the time that boy3 was due to be born. I don’t know what word to use for it, it’s not a memorial or a reminder or a memento. I talked about it a bit in C Day.
At the time it made me feel awkward. Although I was not as deep in grief as I had been 4 months earlier, our loss was still raw enough that I didn’t particularly want to be faced with a view of the tree everytime I looked out of the kitchen window. Initially I put it to the aside of the patio, then with the autumn storms, I wedged it against the fence with other pots so it didn’t get blown over.
The tree has been in bud for a couple of weeks, but today it has its first blossoms just starting to open.
It’s like a metaphor for how I’m coping. Instead of turning away and avoiding looking at my tree, today those tiny white flowers made me smile. Tinged with a pang of sadness, but a smile nevertheless. Those flowers are a reminder of our loss, but also our strength and love and how we’re just right as we are. A family of four.
In the 10 months I’ve had the tree my life hasn’t changed much. But how I’m living it has. I’ve come a long way back to myself. I’ll never be the person I was before boy3 and that’s ok. I’m a different me, but with a large part of the old me from before, with a positive outlook and general cheerfulness.