I watched as they carefully cut down the tree, making sure to save every usable piece. I have plans for it in the future. It's bittersweet, knowing the history and love that tree has provided—to me, to Maisey, and probably to others whose stories I may never hear. As I look out at the wide-open clearing where a beautiful forest once stood, a wave of sadness hits me, catching me off guard. I feel the tears welling up, the weight of loss pressing down on my chest. I didn’t hug the trees like the others did until winter came, the equipment came, and, in an instant, it was cleared.