Seasons of the Tree

After growing up during the depression, Nana must overcome the adversity of a bad marriage while playing an important role in her niece’s childhood. In her golden years, Nana remarries and is finally content with a perfect life. A fatal illness strikes and Nana’s influence on the life of her niece ends… or does it? ***************** Introduction Nana’s death served as the catalyst for Seasons of the Tree coming to fruition. With journal in hand, Nana at the helm, and a raison d'etre so extraordinary, this story could no longer remain concealed. Between the covers of this book lies a true story, narrated with candor, chronicled for posterity’s sake, and presented to you unembellished. ***************** Prologue What you are about to read is a true and factual story. Some names have been changed for legal purposes. However, everything herein has happened in the life and times of Anne Marie Selep-Cooper a.k.a. Nana. And just as in any life, there are ebbs and flows. This story’s purpose is to explain the impact Nana had on her niece’s life, in doing so, this story may impact yours. ***************** Chapter I - The Planting Nana was kneeling at the edge of the rock circle in my front yard. She was planting the flowers in the middle of the circle of rocks, her hands muddy from the freshly-dug black dirt, her hair disheveled. I couldn’t help but notice the dirt on her face as she wiped her brow with the back of her muddy hand. The smudge looked so out of character on her, I couldn’t help but chuckle. There was no point in telling her. With the task at hand, and the outside temperature, she was just going to do it again. “This is it. This is the place I want to be buried when I die.” Nana pointed downward with the trowel, directing my attention to the spot in the shade near the twisted branches of the Harry Lauder’s Walking Stick dwarf tree that Nana and my father had once given to me as a gift.“Then,” Nana said with a smile, “I will always be near you and you can come here to talk to me anytime you like.” Oh, the talks we used to have. In my youth, Nana was always my mentor, my “go to” person when I needed advice. Nana was important to me, too important to lose. Nana and I would have many delightful conversations throughout my lifetime. I haven’t really been out there to speak to her very much since her death. I have to admit, I do feel a little guilty about that. Nana was my favorite aunt. Nana had two siblings, a younger brother, and my mother who was the youngest of the three. Many years after my mother’s divorce from my father, and with my mother’s approval, Nana married my father. Nana and my father loved to come to my house to visit. My house is surrounded by mature trees that must have taken generations to grow. Located in such a serene setting, there is a great deal of privacy. Nana really liked the property and loved helping me with the small tasks that seemed too huge for a city girl like me to tackle, especially if it involved bugs. I tried sitting out there once after Nana died for a one-sided chat. I sat on the rocks that edged the circle of pastel colored flowers, but just as when I tried my hand at planting flowers, there are too many pesky insects crawling around. They make me lose my train of thought. I can’t get Nana’s advice anyway, so I would just get depressed. Those talks were just not as productive as they used to be. Because of that, I haven’t been out there as much as I had originally thought. I occasionally walk past the rock circle and say hello. Having Nana’s ashes near me and all my wonderful memories of her seems quite enough. I never thought about Nana dying. I guess I knew it was inevitable, but I refused to think about it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought she would live forever. Having Nana in my life was just how things were meant to be. Nana was there when I was born and I assumed she would be there all of my life. I never pictured my life without her. What a wake-up call I had. It seemed like some sort of cosmic joke when Nana died. It was surreal. I felt like I was watching a movie. This could not possibly be happening to her. Nana couldn’t die, she was supposed to live forever. How could this happen? I was unprepared for it. We all get sick, but Nana always recovered after a bout with illness. Mentally, I had turned her into some type of super-hero. She was bulletproof. Nothing was ever going to happen to her. In my mind she was indestructible. That didn’t work out so well for me. Nana had a plethora of health problems. Nana was, after all, seventy-eight years old. Her health had been failing for a few years before her death and grew progressively worse towards the end. Nana had both kinds of arthritis, probably from living in a cold damp house in Michigan for years. Nana had diabetes, tumors on her spine that made it painful for her to even sit in a chair, and a heart problem as well. It was difficult for Nana to walk and she suffered a lot because she refused to take the medicine that would stop the pain. Nana would say, “The medicines make me sleep too much, and if I try to stay awake, they make me groggy.” This was not how Nana wanted to live out the rest of her days. Drugged or in pain, those were Nana’s choices at the end of her life. No matter how bad the pain, Nana would not complain, ever. She no longer had to live in pain, Nana was finally at peace. What happened after her death was nothing short of miraculous. I thought her death was the end. It wasn’t.