A blizzard, packing winds of up to 50 mph, had moved through the Boxwoods' home in the cemetery, leaving a wake of death.
"I never thought a storm would kill our child," Mrs. Boxwood cried to her husband. The winds had scattered the child's broken limbs among the tombstones. Its roots had been yanked from its birthplace. It's green leaves lay dead in the snow.
Losing a child is heart wrenching, even if it's a tree.