A Promise in a Pear Tree

My parents both died when I was young in a collision with a drunk driver, on their way home from a dance recital I begged them to come and watch. I never had to beg them to go anywhere, really, they both supported me wholeheartedly no matter how long my lack of self confidence kept me from truly excelling at what I thought I could accomplish.

This one time, however, I needed them to be there.

In the last few months they had been fighting more than I ever knew two people could, and it seemed like anything could be the cause. The laundry not being done, a bill being overdue, the color of the sky.

Sometimes, it was because of me. Mom and dad would have never said it to my face, but I could tell by their hushed words from time to time that I was the reason they were upset.

If only dance lessons weren't so expensive.

You care more about her recitals than you care about spending time with me these days.

We could always go together, but you spend the whole time grumpy about nothing.

I needed them to come to this recital, and I needed them to enjoy it, to enjoy each other again. So, I put on my cutest face and pleaded with both of them with the biggest eyes and sweetest smile I could come up with.

Originally, dad said no. He had to work late so he could pay for future dance recitals and all the other things I wanted. I tried a little harder, with no success, and then slunked to my room, hoping he would see me, feel bad and then change his mind.

I don't how it happened, but at some point he did. I looked out into the audience during a turn and saw him there, sitting next to my mom, looking at me with a pride in his eyes I hadn't seen before. And, I couldn't be too sure, but I had thought I could see them smile at each other as well, something that had been scarce the last few months.

Grandma and grandpa also came with mom, and by the end of the recital it was decided that they would be taking me home while mom and dad rode home in his car. I wasn't told much, but they had some other plans they needed to see to after the recital that I wasn't allowed to be a part of.

As a child I assumed they just needed to go to the store for some things and simply wanted me to be able to get home sooner to celebrate a good recital. As and adult, I learned they were on there way to a hotel, in an impromptu decision to have a night to themselves. In other words, my genius plan had worked.

Or would have. If it weren't for the drunk driver.

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Grandma passed away only a few years after mom and dad died. She had average health for a woman her age, and the doctor's had said that she died of "natural causes," but I have always thought that losing her daughter and then having to suddenly be a parent to her daughter instantly became too much for her. I believe her heart simply gave out from too much pressure.

Grandpa wasn't much for talking, especially not since my parents died.

School was out, and I wasn't yet old enough to work so I spent most of the days outside in the field passing the time practicing various dance moves and skills until I couldn't practice them anymore.

I had already come inside for the day after only an hour of practicing dance, as it had begun to rain. I sat at the table and began fiddling with the bowl of pears grandpa always had sitting there.

"Don't touch that," he barked.

"Why can't I touch them?" I asked.

"They are there for a reason," he said.

"Yeah, but why? I have never seen you actually eat one!"

He shot me a look of disdain.

"Because they're the only thing in my life that I can keep alive myself and I don't want you ruining that too!"

I returned the bowl back to the center of the table. It was the first time he had ever mentioned my parents' death, even vaguely since the funeral.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You parents, your grandmother...they would still be here if it wasn't for you."

Suddenly, my eyes began to fill with tears, and I ran out of the house into the rain.

Out to the edge of the field I ran, mud slapping at the back of my legs, until I arrived at the tree line. I made a way through the outer thicket into the forestry as far as I could before my legs and feet began to hurt from the bristles and twigs beneath them. I sat beneath a fallen oak and shook with grief as tears mixed with rain traveled down my cheeks.

I hadn't heard my grandfather following me, nor did I expect him to be able to so quickly after my spry young legs tore across the field in such a haste.

He, too, was drenched in rain, and an expression which seemed to be a combination of frustration and pain from the journey through the woods played across his face.

"You're going to catch a cold out here, dear," he said.

I looked up. Grandpa had not called me dear since I was much younger, certainly not since before my parents died.

"Why would you care, I'm the reason you lost all the people you care about, remember?"

Grandpa gave a sigh. I was sure he was going to leave me there then, and this brief pause was just his moment to contemplate the consequences.

Instead, grandpa pushed a small log toward me with his foot and took a seat next to me. "I know what I said back there, and I didn't mean it."

"It definitely sounded like you did!" I said wiping my tears out of my eyes.

"I know, dear, I know. I'm sorry that I said that to you."

"But I killed mom and dad! You said so yourself! If it weren't for me, they would still be alive!"

Grandpa was silent for a time.

I felt him move closer.

"Listen, dear, I know what I said to you. Sometimes, people, grown ups especially, say things when they are sad that aren't true, and it's not because they want to hurt other people but because they want other people to know how sad they are. I loved your mom and dad, and I guess my sadness blamed that on you because there's nothing else it knows to blame."

The rain continued to pour, and the sound of drops on the leaves around the two of us filled the silence we held for what felt to be the remainder of the evening.

Suddenly, grandpa stood up and reached out his hand.

"Come, I want to show you something."

We left the woods the same way we came and grandpa led me to another end of the yard closer to the house, where his favored pear tree stood amongst various foliage and shrubs.

"Have you ever come out here?" he asked.

"Not really, I know it's yours so I try not to go near it," I said.

Grandpa chuckled. "Your mother discovered this tree when she was a little younger than you. It was her favorite thing in the world. And when she met you father, it became their favorite thing in the world." Grandpa motioned the the heart carved into the trunk of the tree with my parents' initials etched inside of it. Underneath the heart were the words "Never Forget."

"Your grandmother and I continued to care for it after your mother left home, and it became our turn to love this tree. And now..." Grandpa's voice trailed off as he placed a hand on the initials in the tree.

"Now, this tree is all I have left." Grandpa looked at the tree solemnly.

"But Grandpa," I said, " I'm still here too..."

Grandpa looked down at me, with his hand still on the tree.

"Yes, dear," he said with a teary smile, "You are still here."

Grandpa pulled his hand from the tree and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.

After a short while I pulled away from Grandpa. I asked for his pocket knife.

"Why do you need it, dear?" he asked.

"You'll see!" I said. I took the knife, and under the "Never Forget" I carved a new heart, one with initials belonged to Grandpa and me.

I looked back at Grandpa, who now had traces of tears forming in his eyes. He pulled me back in for a hug.

"Thank you."

We left the tree and made our way through the rain back into the house.

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Years later, many after Grandpa had passed on himself, I stood at the gnarly, old pear tree at the edge of the field that now belonged to me.

My youngest daughter, now taking dance lessons as I did at her age, stood with me, inspecting the almost illegible etchings on the trunk.

"Mom, where did these come from?"

I smiled. "Well, dear, your grandma and grandpa put them there when they were young."

"Why?"

"Well, they put them there so that we would always know that they are with us even though they are gone now."

"Who does the other heart belong to?"

"That's for your Great Grandpa and me. We put that there when I was young, after your grandma and grandpa died."

My daughter looked at the etchings for a moment, then smiled.

"Mom, we should put our names here too!"

I could feel my eyes well with tears. "Yes, dear, what a great idea!"

My daughter etched a heart below my parents' heart and drew our initials inside it.

"This way," she said, "All of us will always be together, no matter what."

I swallowed my tears, and pulled my daughter into a hug not unlike the my Grandpa gave me years ago.

"Thank you," I said. We etched a new heart in the tree, and returned to the house, where a bowl of pears was waiting for us on the kitchen table.

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