Grief As A Tree
Every year, as the anniversary of my daughter's death approaches, something in my body knows.
I become forgetful, day-dreamy, sedentary and self-focused. I feel a need to nurture myself, to take it easy. Some years, I have felt a need to honor the day. We planted a magnolia tree on Hannah's first anniversary.
Twenty-one years later, this tree is a testament to my grief. It's branches stretch beyond my reach into the sky. In its roots are my tears and bits and pieces of memories, memories which are still teaching me.
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