Walk along ways north on the beach here, past the dog-friendly section, past the break in the dunes where that white egret stands at the edge of the lagoon. Keep walking towards the jetty until you see it.
I don’t know how many people over how many years have hung shells and other things on that tree. Some of the people might have done it for fun, but it feels like others put things there in memory of someone.
There’s a tiny teddy bear ornament mixed in among the shells and seaweed. It was that one thing that made me see this as a memory tree; my mother collected teddy bear ornaments and I still have one of them tucked away in a box in my trailer.
As the storm clouds blew in and I walked back to my tiny home, I saw three pelicans fly over my head. I realized my parents did a great job at teaching me to fly, knowing that one day I would be on my own.
Two years ago, on Super Bowl Sunday, my Dad died. I miss him like hell today. But I’m learning to remember the good times, too. The jokes, the road trips, the stories, and all the reasons I do miss him so much.
As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you… For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
…You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything… But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart… The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves.
(Reddit – read the whole thing here)