A Pear Tree For My Grandfather

It was a cold, snowy night when my family got the call. The receptionist from the local nursing home called my mother to say that my grandfather (at the age of 82) had a heart attack and passed away. After my mother hung up the phone, she walked into the living room and sat down quietly. She blankly stared at the wall and didn't say a word for what felt like an eternity. Then, finally, after a long stretch of silence, she spoke.

"Your grandfather has just died." She stated.

She continued to speak, but I couldn't hear another word. My face got hot, and blood rushed to my ears, creating a loud pounding sound. I immediately ran upstairs to the bathroom, locked the door, and slammed my body to the ground. I gripped the back of my head and brought it down between my knees, and tried to calm my breathing. Immediately tears fell from my eyes, and a heavy sob escaped my lips. I couldn't believe the news. It broke my heart into so many pieces that I didn't know how I could repair it. I would never be the same after that day, but I am getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning….

It all began when I was eight years old. My mother used to drop me off at my grandparents' house after school, and I would spend the afternoon there until she could pick me up after work. My grandfather and I were always close. We enjoyed many of the same things, such as classic cars, chicken wings, and Humphrey Bogart movies. One day my grandfather and I went to a garden center in town to pick out something to plant in his backyard. I was so excited to help; I never got to do anything like this with mom because we lived in an apartment and didn't have our own yard.

As soon as he pulled up to the garden center, I jumped out of the truck and ran to the "tree" section. It was filled with all types of trees, from apple to avocado; they had it all. My grandfather walked up behind me and said, "what do you think?"

"What is your favorite fruit?" I asked.

"Pears," he answered.

I walked over to a potted pear tree and picked one up.

"We found the perfect plant," I said, beaming.

We walked over to the checkout kiosk, paid for the tree, and drove back to my grandparents' house. We spent the rest of the afternoon planting that tree. I was so proud of our work that when my mom came to pick me up, I grabbed her hand, and ran out the door to where we planted it in the backyard.

Every day after school for the next few years, I would go over to my grandparents' house to help take care of the tree my grandfather and I planted. There was a little piece of both of us in that tree. After it matured, we were able to pluck and eat the pears that grew on it. They were so delicious; it made me so proud to call the tree mine.

My grandparents only got older, and they ended up selling their home and moving into an assisted living facility. I was so sad that I couldn't see our tree anymore, but I understood the circumstances. Unfortunately, my grandma passed away not long after moving into that place, but my grandfather was doing well, or so I thought.

The funeral was so sad; everyone lined up to give their condolences to me and my family. I just wanted it to be over so I could cry in my room in peace. We decided to have my grandfather cremated, so we didn't have to choose between an open or closed casket. After the funeral ended, we drove home in silence, and as soon as we walked in the front door, my mother placed my grandfather's urn on the fireplace mantle.

One evening, I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I decided I had to do something for my grandfather, something that he would have wanted. So I ran down to the mantle where my grandfather's ashes sat. He didn't want to sit in someone's living room forever. He wanted to be free, and I knew exactly where to go.

I drove over to my grandparents' old house in the middle of the night. As soon as I pulled up, I saw the precious pear tree that we had planted. I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. I snuck over to the passenger side and opened the door, and grabbed the urn. I unlatched the fence and walked right up to the pear tree. It had grown since the last time I saw it. I took a deep breath and whispered, "I love you grandpa, this is for you." Just as the last word escaped my lips, I took off the top of the urn and dumped my grandfather's remains all around the base of the tree. I knelt down and patted his ashes into the soil, so it was all mixed. I slowly got up and touched a single pear hanging from a branch. A tear escaped my eye as I walked back to the car, got in the driver's seat, and drove off.

After that day, my grieving slowed to a halt. I did what I thought he would have wanted, and it made me happy to know that he could be with the one piece of work that he was most proud of, the pear tree.