My favorite time of the year has always been fall and early winter. I'm not sure why, but I think it is because I love to see fall colors, days are usually cool, fall rains replenish the soil after summer's parching, and plants seem to grow with renewed vigor for a short time before leaf fall. Of course fall also is the season for hunting and football, both of which I enjoy very much.
My wife, Marilyn, would say that my fondness for fall stems from the fact that the earth is beginning to rest after a very busy spring and summer. She knows how much I like to rest, take naps, and go to bed early. She only wishes she could get the busy spring and summer out of me first.
Over the years, fall has become a bittersweet time for Marilyn and me. Several years ago, Marilyn lost her dad a few days before Thanksgiving and her mom just after Christmas. A few years later we lost our son, Chris, the day before Thanksgiving and a cousin Don, who was more like a brother, just two weeks later.
Our latent melancholy was awakened again this past week by the loss of Bill, a gentleman and duffer, who became a surrogate dad to Marilyn, and by the loss of Linda, a good friend who had an infectious smile and a magnetic personality that always drew us to her. Over the weekend I phoned my sister-in-law. We talked about how different this holiday season would be without her husband, my brother Ron, whom we lost on Mother's Day.
I used to think that I was the only person in the world who had lost so many loved ones. When I got into the florist business, I began to realize that everyone has had his or her share of losses. Wreaths, bouquets, and greenery sprays are purchased each holiday to be placed on the grave of a wife, mother, daughter, husband, father or son.
Although I will never really get over the loss of our son, there is something that has helped through the years. In 1987 Marilyn and I planted a memorial tree in Dennis Scivally Park. I was adamant. I wanted this tree to remind everyone of my son's life. I never wanted anyone to forget him! Today as I drive by Chris' tree on my way to work, I am no longer concerned about people remembering him. I now know that his words and deeds will always be a part of my life and that of others. Somehow or in some way I know that he changed lives. He will never be forgotten.
Whenever I see Chris' tree I always remember that after death there is life. Every spring Chris' tree, a willow oak, awakes from its winter slumber, puts on new leaves and begins to grow again. Chris' tree also brings to mind a promise given to us a long time ago. We all will be reminded of that promise in just a few days when we celebrate the birth of a child from Bethlehem. My Christmas gift to you is a prayer that you will be reminded of that promise this year.
Merry Christmas!
Both the cities of Jackson and Cape Girardeau have a memorial tree program as does Cape Girardeau County. If you want more information, contact the appropriate park superintendent or any local nursery. I am also sure that many schools and churches would welcome a memorial tree planted on their property. I can think of no better way for a gardener to remember his or her loved one.
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