The pine, the bamboo and the plum tree are what the Chinese call The Three Friends of Winter. Unlike many other plants, these three do not falter as the days deepen into bitter winter chill. They respectively symbolise steadfastness, perseverance, and resilience.

I love the contemplative Chinese mythology and how imagery of nature is interwoven into teachings. The idea that the pine, bamboo, and plum trees sustain themselves during piercingly cold times gives me solace as I am both in the winter season and the winter of my grief. I look toward a spring where I will be able to hold Emily in my heart with a greater ease and where I will grow ever more comfortable with a flowering relationship of soul-to-soul connection.

The pine tree, an evergreen, remains verdant throughout the seasons. It resists the elements, reaching relentlessly upward, longevity in its very roots. My own steadfastness shall remain in my devotion to Emily; I will also be steadfast in the faith that our connection can continue; finally, I will be steadfast in love for my Don and my Charlotte. 

The bamboo, displaying perseverance in the face of freezing temperatures, continues to grow. As winds buffet these robust, ringed stalks, they remain upright, with deeply entrenched, ever expanding roots: flexible, bending with the elements, but not overcome by them. I, too, will persevere in the face of this present hardship. I have a fortitude that has given me an inner, rooted strength I didn’t know I possessed. I will persevere in the willingness to examine my feelings and share them because I recognise how helpful my self-examination and vulnerability are to so many others who are in the winter of their own griefs. I will persevere with my writing in the hope that it will give me healing and be a balm for others, a tiny offering that can hug the hearts of those who suffer similarly.

The plum tree, representing resilience, is one of the first trees to bloom as the liminal season recedes and spring emerges. This will be me. Even the day after Emily passed, Don and I murmured to one another between sobs that we could not let this take us down: that we would need to not only go through this fire of sorrow, but emerge with purpose and even joy. I will need resilience in this new life in a new place with new experiences. I will not wither and die as the garden annuals do, but push forth blossoms of renewal and shiny green growth that display my commitment to taking a tragedy and turning it into something that can bring beauty and purpose.

Yes, its winter,  but I will endure. And spring will come.