The Giving Tree

Today was the memorial service for Chelsea.  It rained, but not the kind of rain like the day she died in November.  Rather, it was a soft rain of Spring and rebirth.  Friends and family gathered to honor the woman that she was and her impact on their lives as a wife, daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, neighbor, physician, and friend.  I had not planned to get up a speak today, but it seemed wrong to leave having not said something about what she meant to all her fellow cancer patients that she helped and advocated for along way. 

I have always been more eloquent in writing than in speaking in front of a crowd, but I did my best and asked the audience of friendly, wet eyes to bear with me.  I told the group that I identified with a story told earlier about a little boy who anxiously awaited Chelsea to pick him up to walk him to the bus stop each day.  I felt like the adult version of that boy, so selflessly guided by Chelsea.  I talked about her intelligence, her wittiness, and how much I appreciated her friendship and willingness to help me and other colorectal cancer patients while fighting her own battle with cancer.  I admitted that I hated only having two years with her and that I often spoke to her and asked her to send me a sign that her spirit was among us.   But then I froze… And I ended by saying, “I guess I will be done now.” I regretted not being able to find just the right words in that moment…

As the service continued, I thought back to a text conversation Chelsea and I had a few months before she died.  In a text thread, she told me that she was getting sicker and that she feared the end of her life was near.  I told her that I couldn’t imagine a world without her in it.  She replied by telling me that she was crying on the other end of the text thread.  I told her I was doing the same.   Since November, I have keenly felt her absence. I have navigated this world and the mark has left on me without her physical presence.  But as I sat there today, I was reminded that all the people she loved and touched now carry a piece of her with us.  I wish I would have thought to say that as I closed my remarks during her service today, but I figured it wasn’t too late to say it now.

Chelsea’s ashes were returned to the earth after the service today.  On top of her ashes, a red maple tree was planted.  I am not sure there is a better way for a fiery red head to be forever remembered.  One of my favorite books growing up was Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree”.  In the book, a tree gives all that she can to a young boy until he is an old man, and she has only a stump to give him to rest. And in that moment, as the story ends the author tells us that, “The tree was happy.”  It’s a beautiful metaphor for all that Chelsea was and all that she gave up to the day she died.  Today, I believe the tree was happy. Chelsea was happy.  And from time to time, I will go rest by that tree in the park, and remind her I am so grateful for everything she did for me and the lasting impression she has had on my life.

XO-

Mary