By Elisabeth Strillacci

Death in any form is hard.

I had planned another topic for this week, but an unexpected loss changed my mind.

This morning, just as it was becoming fully light, I heard a soft sound that I thought was wind chimes, but I know there are no chimes on our porch, only in the dogwood tree out front.

Trying to make sense of what I’d heard, I thought perhaps the stray cats we care for had knocked a trinket off the porch and it had made an odd sound.

I got up and peeked out of the bedroom blinds, and my heart sank.

We have a beautiful, but damaged, dogwood out front.

Years ago, someone tied a dog to the base of the tree and as the poor dog ran in circles, the rope or chain cut through the delicate bark of the tree.

When we moved in more than a year ago, I knew that tree was not going to be with us long. She’d suffered too much damage.

But I babied her, gave her fertilizer and water and attention, and she bloomed so proudly for us.

She had already sprouted buds this year, and I was so hoping she could hold on for another season.

But my husband had already noticed that the wind chimes hanging from her strongest branch were getting closer and closer to the ground, which meant she was really having trouble standing.

We have had so much rain of late that it penetrated her damaged bark, and the noise I had heard was the wind chimes softly hitting the ground as she fell. Nothing more than that whisper.

Her branches reached toward our room, toward us, but did not hit the house. It felt like she was saying goodbye but even in death she protected us.

I am so grateful for her shade, her beauty, her gently fluttering leaves on breezy days and her constant cheer.

Am I over-reacting to be so very heartbroken over a tree?

I don’t think so. They give so much, and ask so little of us, and yet we still are determined to cut them all down when we build because it makes life easier for us. Cut them down when they block a view instead of appreciating that they are the view.

We are such a disposable world, getting rid of anything and everything that would mean we’d have to take a longer approach, see things through branches and not instead of branches.

Trees help keep our air clean even when we work to dirty it. They ground the earth so in storms our homes are not so easily washed away. They cool us in high heat with their shade. They give us a place to lean and rest when we are tired. They provide lumber for building and pulp for paper.

I could go on and on, but I am trusting you understand.

We had a loss this week. A beautiful tree who had given us so much, asked for so little, and she left us so quietly all I heard on her passing was the music of wind chimes.

Thank you, dear tree, though that seems little enough to offer. You were loved, and we will miss you.

Elisabeth Strillacci is former editor of the Salisbury Post.