The Birch Tree

There was a white birch tree in my parents yard that has been there as long as I remember. It was always my favorite. It is the only white birch that I know of in the neighborhood and beyond. It has stood strong and proud, offering shade and shelter to all. The birch's many virtues include bark that is both soothingly attractive yet rugged, which is why the Eries and other natives used it for canoes and used its sap to make medicinal tea.

As my father was struggling through his final days, I took a walk in our yard to clear my mind. I stopped and looked at the stump of the birch tree. It had become diseased this past year and sadly needed to be cut down. I deeply missed how that tree had stood out among the others, not ostentatiously, but bright, sturdy and bold. On closer examination I found that from the remaining roots, new shoots were sprouting, green and glistening, thirsting for the sunlight, bursting with youthfulness and energy.

The impact of that imagery was comforting, knowing that my father was very much like that birch, strong and proud, singular and unique and willing to lend support, strength and provide the ability to heal. The new growth I saw sprouting from the roots remind me that my father's virtues and legacy as well as his family's genes will live on and thrive.

As I returned from my walk that day, and came back to the parlor where my father was deeply resting, I looked at our family picture that was taken long ago, that hangs on the wall beside my father's favorite chair. There in the picture, my father was standing proudly, among his family with his arm around me. And clearly behind him, is the birch tree.

In my opinion, the birch tree is the mightiest tree in the forest and my father is the mightiest man I have ever known.