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The little man under the pear tree

by Jose Medina 2 months ago in grief · updated about a month ago

We always need someone.

The little man under the pear tree
Photo by Eugene Tkachenko on Unsplash

The little man under the pear tree

I can’t tell what life lessons have sunken deeply into my soul. Your gone and no longer exist dad...Yet, those life lessons that you’ve taught me can’t be forgotten. I remember those moments eating pears under this great-big tree near snow lake. You always taught me about love, virtue, and the ideal life that one should pursue passionately. Dad, you are gone, and I will always love you with my whole heart. I cannot express so much of my love in words; however, how can I not do so with words... Since words are all I have left to talk to you. I am hoping that you can hear these words.

It’s nighttime right now… The moonlight is shimmering on the lake. The lake’s tides are moving slowly, and calmly. The crickets are chirping and singing their mating songs. I guess near the grass! Oh, I am wrong the crickets are everywhere in heat. I guess walking bare feet in this park isn’t a good idea. This night reminds me so much of the night that I told you, my secret. The hours leading to our usual father and son night were intense. My heart was close to exploding. They were the most frightening four hours of my life. Those four hours I had to dig deep to tell you this secret. When I told you! You said that you already knew and loved me anyway. In the back of my mind, I was like is that all? Was I overreacting for nothing? Was I being a drama queen? I was an overly emotional young man. Yet, you loved me for myself, and nothing else.

It’s funny how sometimes we dramatize life without needing to do so... I...I think so much about your essence. I think so much about living a purposeful life like you kept on telling me. I am back at this pear tree. It’s been five years since I’ve visited this park after your death. It’s very a nostalgic feeling being under this tree imagining an imaginary world. It’s like the old days. Our larping days are over dad. Those days meant so much to me. My childhood was wonderful because you gave me so much with so little. I guess I am a strange man under a pear tree talking to himself in order to connect with your spirit, yet I don’t see any other way. As I am your little boy who’s now a 40-year-old man. I do feel like this tree will always serve as a gatekeeper of those nostalgic memories of us eating pears together.

As I touch this gravestone of yours under this pear tree, I am talking to myself, and cannot repress these tears of how little I said. I should’ve spent more time with you. I shouldn’t have gotten caught up with drama. You and mom, you guys deserved a more thoughtful son. Yet, I can only cope with this loss by talking to myself in order to stay sane. Your advice and love will never be forgotten. A dad is to a son as what a mother is to a daughter. I Samuel Perez your son. I am proud of you dad. I wish you were proud of me. Especially, of the man that I am now.

It’s only through our memories we see how much time has gone by. I can never have you back. Yet, I just can say that. I am still your little boy who still remembers us playing pirates of the lost kingdom. Those sensations of joy that we were actors in a faraway land. The terror, the perils of war, and the treasures of our journey we're always rewarding to fantasize about. No one can quantify what is to be fully alive, and aware of life’s wonderful moments. You taught me that.

Dad, you taught me that in life. We don’t always get what we want rather we get what we need. This moment is what I needed to say something. Dad, I am still your little boy under the great pear tree looking for purpose and meaning in life. Thank you, for a wonderful life and childhood that you gave me! You can rest in peace without worrying about me. I no longer grieve about your departure from this big ship called life. I am strong enough to live life without you by my side.


Jose Medina

I’m new to this. I hope that I can learn and grow as an amateur writer.

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Jose Medina
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