Letting Go

Today I had to say goodbye to my quaking aspen trees. I had them planted in front of our house more than 10 years ago, and they grew to reach above our roof line. When the leaves came in the summer, I loved hearing their quaking sounds in the wind. Sadly, they were red-flagged for fire hazard by the insurance company because they were too close to the house.

I resisted letting them go for the last couple of years, but once we noticed that some roots were creeping into the house foundation I could no longer hold on. So the tree people came this morning and got them cut down and dug out the roots for us.

It was rather an unceremonious event, but I quietly thanked them as they were being taken down. I also had them save some nice looking branches for us to keep. They say aspens are like weeds, so I’m hoping I could possibly propagate from the branches and plant them further away from the house.

Anything we feel any affinity towards becomes attachment, and letting go would cause some pain in our heart. Even though I am not devastated about losing the aspen trees, I did notice the sadness I felt of letting them go. It was just a reminder of one of the five remembrances that anything and anybody who we love and care about will eventually go away.