Jacob knelt slowly and silently beside the weeping cherry tree. This regular moment of focussed introspection somehow prepared him for his weekly meetings.
He was trapped in a perpetual winter, whilst the blossom boasted of a spring he would never again be blessed to experience. He was imprisoned by the stone that stood resolutely before him.
“Please let me go,” he pleaded. He knew he did not deserve freedom, but somehow hoped for the miraculous.
He longed for an opportunity to return to the past, to right his wrongs. Six years ago he did not live life like the cherry tree. Immaturely, he lived it in his own way, disregarding the right paths and expectations. Risks were for the taking. Life was purely to be enjoyed.
For the blossom, its fate was a natural circle of life, with many soft kisses landing gently upon the ground. Jacob’s fate, in stark contrast, was unnatural and destructive.
Five years, six months and ten days ago, became a day ingrained on Jacob’s heart. He had only just turned 21 the week before. Ironically, it was the middle of fall and all the leaves on the trees around him were turning stunning shades of red and brown. However, to Jacob, the colours meant nothing other than the reality that they were being stripped of life.
On that day the stone was positioned and the weeping cherry tree was planted.
He now acknowledged the tree that had grown with the years and was adorned with a multitude of flowers, but he would never be able to absorb the incredible beauty that others felt. To him the tree would be forever weeping.
As Jacob regularly stands up and says his piece about feelings and life, it is in the knowledge that he will repeatedly die with the blossom, maybe one year soon never to return.