The Magic of the Sucker Tree: A Tribute to My Papa
Starting this blog is a big moment for me. My hope is to create a space where mature women can come to hear my stories, know they’re not alone, and reflect on the lessons we all learn along the way. Life is a journey best traveled together, and by sharing, we grow.
Although my childhood didn’t include material wealth or an easy road, I was fortunate in many ways. This first story is about one of those blessings—my Papa. He was an eccentric man, full of love and mischief, and he’ll appear in many of my future posts. But today, I want to share one of my favorite memories of him.
A Childhood Filled with Love and Laughter
I grew up on a side road in rural Ontario with my three sisters. Our home was built on what was once my Papa’s potato field. My nanny and papa lived in the middle, with our home on one side and my aunt’s on the other, filled with my four cousins. There was never a shortage of playmates, and the land around us was our playground.
Papa was a child at heart, always pulling pranks on his twelve grandchildren. I often thought that losing his own mother at a young age had robbed him of his childhood joy, and he was determined to reclaim it with us.
Every spring, we would take a walk over the “big hill” into the valley, making our way to the beaver pond for a picnic. The night before, Papa would start wondering aloud, “I wonder if the sucker tree is blooming yet?” This question would follow us on our journey until, sure enough, on the other side of that big hill, we’d find it—a tree in full bloom with suckers!
Of course, Papa had gone ahead of us, carefully cutting small slits in the branches and tucking suckers into them, ensuring there were enough for us all. The sucker tree was a small but magical part of our childhood, filling our minds with wonder and our hearts with the unconditional love he had for us. Even today, at 52 years old, the thought of that tree warms me to my core.
A Final Goodbye, A Last Bloom
In May of 2006, Papa took his last breath, joining my nanny, who had passed just a few weeks before. As we prepared for his funeral, my cousin called with an idea: “We should place suckers in a tree during the service.”
She found an old lilac tree in her backyard that had died. She cleaned it up, cut slits into the branches—one for each grandchild and great-grandchild—and we placed that sucker tree at the funeral home. It was our way of honoring him, giving back the magic he had given us so many times before.
The minister was so touched that he suggested placing the suckers in the bag with his urn, and so we did. It felt right. It felt full circle.
The following spring, I received an email from my cousin. Attached was a picture of that same lilac tree. Despite being dried up and seemingly lifeless, it had bloomed again.
Some might call it a fluke—perhaps those little slits stimulated the tree, leading to its revival. But for me, it was something more. It was a thank-you from wherever Papa is, a quiet expression of gratitude for the love and joy we had shared.
Lessons from the Sucker Tree
Never underestimate the impact of small acts of kindness. They can shape a child’s heart forever.
You don’t have to be rich to make a difference—love, time, and creativity are enough.
We live on in the hearts and minds of those who love us. Make it count.
If you’ve ever had a loved one leave behind a special tradition or lesson, I’d love to hear about it. Let’s share, reflect, and grow together.
For this post I have selected a recipe that represents those old childhood memories for me: chocolate chip cookies with a convenient spin!
