I wrote a flashback story of sorts last November about mom, dad, and the Christmas lights, and how there was a Japanese maple in the front yard that had sentimental meaning for both her and me because it brought back bittersweet memories of my dad.
We put Christmas lights on it many years ago because mom and dad wanted to step up their decor game a bit. But a combination of dad's vision problems and early-morning dialysis appointments prompted them to start leaving the lights on it year-round, because it gave them extra light when they were going to the car on the mornings it was still dark.
Last fall, mom started fretting over the Japanese maple, believing it had died. I wasn't so sure, and advised her to be patient and hold out until the spring to see if it would come back to life. I mentioned to her that if it didn't, we'd see about filling that area in with concrete (a concrete patio was built around it about 15 years ago). She didn't like that idea, wanting to replace it with another Japanese maple if the one we had was truly gone.
READ MORE: Caregiver's Diary Part 57: Mom, Dad, and the Christmas Lights
I haven't done a scratch test on the bark just yet, but I'm fairly certain it is dead. We usually see it perked up at this point, but it still looks like it did in the winter. Overall, it just looks unhealthy.
On the other hand, the azalea bushes we have are really starting to put on fantastic displays all around the yard, along with the dogwoods, redbuds, etc. Spring has sprung around these parts, for sure, and it's been quite the sight to see.
Two of the azaleas in particular are worth mentioning in light of the story of the Japanese maple.
25 years or so ago, my dad planted two azalea bushes in the back yard. While one of them has consistently bloomed every spring since then, the other stopped blooming maybe two or three years before we lost my dad. We always assumed it was dead or dying, that maybe insects had gotten to it, because not only had we stopped seeing blooms on it, but most of the time we didn't see green leaves on it, either.
But a fascinating thing has happened. I opened up the back blinds Monday morning, and saw little blooms on the azalea we thought was dead. And it's not just a few blooms. It's a lot of them.
RELATED (VIP): Caregiver's Diary Part 81: Blissful Moments of Normalcy
Though the Japanese maple that brings back so many memories of my dad appears close to death, an azalea bush he planted behind the house that we thought was permanently out of commission is showing strong, beautiful signs of life again. And right here so close to Easter, at that, with dad's birthday and his and mom's wedding anniversary also around the corner. It's just amazing, and my eyes started misting up when I saw it and my mom's reaction when I let her know.
We feel like it's a gift from God, a sign of sorts that Dad is still watching out for us and taking care of us in his own way. Whether that's true or not, only God knows, but we're choosing to believe it, anyway.
Whatever the case may be, it was certainly welcomed amid all the other sights, sounds, and smells of the spring season here in our little neck of the woods. And maybe, just maybe, there's hope for the Japanese maple, too.
DIVE DEEPER: To check out my previous Caregiver's Diary entries, please click here. Thank you!
