The Glow From Claire's Tree

The Christmas season does not officially begin for my daughter and me until we catch sight of our favorite tree bursting into bloom.

Cait was 8 the first time she saw it, and ever since she has called it "our" tree. It's not in our yard. It's not even on our street, but we call it our tree because of its mystical pull on us. For the last six years we have taken countless detours so we can slow the car on Fernway Rd. in Shaker Heights and stare in wonder at, not an evergreen, but a marvelously appointed crab-apple tree.

Nearly 2,000 colored lights not only loop the tree but spiral in and out of its branches, creating a sparkling helix rivaling the moon at full vamp. Each year the tree grows taller, reaching nearly 20 feet this year. No matter how tall it is, though, there's always a cluster of lights that make it to the very top.

In the last six years, my daughter has grown taller, too. At 14, she has also grown less patient with her mother's many enthusiasms. She's a teenager. That's her job, and she has a sturdy work ethic.

She can't hide her love of Christmas, though. That is a spirit we still share, and I have grown increasingly grateful to the family that decorates that tree because it coaxes out the sense of wonder embedded deep in my daughter's heart.

The weekend after Thanksgiving, we were running errands when she turned to me and said, "Oh, Mom, can we see if our tree is up?"

Sure enough, it was. We pulled up to the curb and Cait leaned into the passenger side window. We chattered the way we always do when we first see it. How do they do it, we wondered? Who's the one with all that patience? What's the story behind that tree? (We were sure there had to be one.)

"We should tell them someday how much we love it," she said.

"Yeah, we really should," I said as I slowly drove away.

About a week later I was driving by the tree on a wet, gloomy evening. I pulled over, shifted the car into park. I thought about all the children who attend Fernway School across the street. What a gift it is each morning for them to see the tree aglow as the winter nights slowly give way to morning. The school has an active after-school program too, and I wondered how many beleaguered parents have cast a grateful glance at the tree before retrieving their kids and heading home.

I turned off the car, walked up the drive.

They could think I'm nuts.

They're probably in the middle of dinner.

It's so rude to show up unexpected, uninvited.

I took a deep breath, rang the bell.

Nancy and Colin Wemer both came to the door. They smiled.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening," I stammered. "It's just, well, your tree. I love your tree. My daughter too, she loves your tree. For years we've driven by . . . "

They beamed, and invited me in.

"You know, there's a story behind that tree," Nancy said.

Nine years ago, Nancy was pregnant with triplets. Their first child, Will, was born six years earlier and they waited a long time before Nancy could become pregnant again.

It was a difficult pregnancy of ultrasounds, bed rest and hospital stays. On May 14, 1992, Nancy, at 34 weeks, went into labor. Two sons, Matt and David, were born healthy. Their daughter, Claire, was stillborn.

A few days later, Nancy and Colin held a quiet graveside service for their daughter. About 10 minutes after they returned home, one of Nancy's close friends drove up with a 3-foot tall Katherine crab apple. The tree was a gift from seven of Nancy's closest friends, all of whom were mothers of children in the same preschool as Will.

"They were great friends," Nancy said. "They were great sisters. Many of them had been having babies when I couldn't, some of them had suffered losses of their own. They knew we were so happy about our healthy boys, but they also knew we grieved."

So, Julie, Janet, Sid, Christine, Gay, Susie and Darlene presented the tree as a memorial to Claire. "We will remember Claire today," read their handwritten note. "We love you and our thoughts are with you."

Colin planted the tree in their front yard that same day.

The first Christmas, Nancy draped a string of lights around Claire's Tree. "It was a way of including Claire in our Christmas," she said.

In the next few years the tree grew so much that Colin took over the decorating. Each Christmas he added another string of lights. This year, he spent nearly an entire day weaving 16 strings of lights into the tree, using a pole with a claw on the end. "I think it's kind of his tribute to Claire," Nancy said.

Turns out, I'm not the only one who has asked them about the tree.

"People will come up and say, ‘I just want you to know how much we love your tree,' " Nancy said. "I love that it makes others happy and that it's a way to celebrate Claire. And I can't look at it without thinking of our wonderful friends and how supportive they were."

Matt and David were told about their sister when they were in first grade. Ever since, they too have called it Claire's Tree.

"We always call it ‘Claire's Tree,' " David said. "Like when we're playing football in the yard, we'll say, ‘OK, now run around Claire's Tree and I'll throw you the ball.' "

Matt nodded his head and smiled. "When Mom first told us, I went outside and pictured my sister Claire and how she was born with us," he said. "I felt kinda sad I didn't have a sister, but it was nice to know how that tree came to us. I thought it just came with the house."

I'm glad I stopped at the Wemers' house, and I'm grateful for their willingness to share their story. I'm also grateful to those friends who, nine years ago, found a way to recognize that every life counts, every spirit endures.

As I said, Cait and I have long felt a mystical pull to that tree. How nice to finally know her name.

Connie Schultz is a columnist and feature writer for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland. After working for 15 years as a freelance writer, she joined The Plain Dealer as a beat reporter in 1993 and switched to writing general assignment features in 1995. She was a finalist this year in the commentary category of the Association of Newspaper Editors' writing competition, and her work appears in the recently published book, "2002 Best Newspaper Writing." Last year she won third place in the AASFE competition for commentary. Her essays and columns also earned her a National Headliner Award and a Cleveland Press Club Award last year.