Our old cherry blossom tree died.

It’s been at the bottom of our garden since we moved in almost three decades ago.

It started its decline last year when it failed to bloom. We waited a while to give it a chance to make its epic comeback this year, but to no avail. Dry and bare, the wood is brittle and lifeless.

My dad and I started by removing the smaller branches. Dad would pull them down and I would chop them up, silently thanking the tree for its service. It was quiet, contemplative work.

Then my uncle came round with his chainsaw and brought the rest of the trunk down. I winced at the noise and was glad when it was over.

We’ve kept the stump and we are turning it into a bird feeding table. The old tree may have come to the end of its natural life, but it will live on, just with a new purpose; a new perspective.

I think it’s a mistake to see death as the end. When we grieve, we mourn the loss of what we had. We miss them; we want them back.

Truth is, they aren’t gone, they’ve just finished that part of their life and have moved onto the next one.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed, and all life is energy.

It may change, evolve, but it is never lost.

Those we’ve lost live on; in the blood of their descendants, in the memories of their friends, in the messages that they send from the other side.

It’s not the end of their story. It’s simply the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one.

What are your thoughts on life after death? Let me know in the comments.

 

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