This week, I tackled a task that has been hanging over my head since January. The job that Steve started in January had to be finished. A friend had arranged to finish felling the tree, but otherwise, it was lying where it fell on Jan. 8. It had to be cut and split, and we had decided that we would burn it to ashes as part of Steve’s memorial service. While I had many offers to help, and I am sure that many people wanted to take a whack at it, I felt that I needed, wanted, in fact, to finish what Steve had started, myself.

This is where I find myself: finishing what Steve started. In many ways the tree is a metaphor for the rest of my life. From raising the kids to home improvement projects to training the dogs, and everything in between, it’s up to me to finish the things that he had in the works. I thought about this a lot as I was sawing away.

First, I needed to learn how to use a chain saw. While it wasn’t the saw that killed Steve, the whole idea of cutting up the tree, any tree for that matter, made me shake. It wasn’t just “the” tree that had to be cut up, though. We still had many trees and branches down from the storm last fall. Steve had been working on them a little at time, but with spring’s arrival, they needed to get off the ground. Since most of them were smaller and on the ground already, it gave me lots of practice with a small, battery-operated chain saw that I felt comfortable and safe using.

I was also introduced to the log splitter. When he was working with a branch or two at a time, Steve frequently just hauled out the maul and quickly split everything by hand, or he dragged the boys out and made them do a few logs at a time. He appreciated the workout it gave him, and well, truth be told, I think Steve just liked the feeling of splitting his own firewood. He did occasionally succumb to using the splitter, but usually only when time was of the essence or the job was larger than just a few logs.

I, however, had no qualms about using technology, and thanks to a generous friend, who graciously loaned me his splitter, I’ve run out of places to stack firewood. I was also more than ready to turn the godawful tree into toothpicks.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the last four months sitting at the tree, on the tree, screaming at the tree, beating on the tree, and at last, I felt that I was ready to start destroying the tree that had destroyed our love, our life, our future. I guess I hoped that maybe I would find some kind of answer, or at least unleash some of the anger and hatred that I’ve been holding onto in the tree’s direction.

Instead, I was just saddened by how completely unremarkable it was. It was simply a piece of wood. Nothing more, nothing less. No different from the tens of hundreds of trees around it. I guess I hoped that it would feel like some kind of monster. Maybe I even hoped it would hurt me, like the wild animal that had gotten a taste of human blood and was hungry for more. Instead, it just sat there. Immobile. Dead. Waiting to be broken. All of its energy was depleted in a split second that changed everything.

Now the tree has been reduced to a pile of sticks that even a small child could easily pick up. I could pile it in with any of the other dozen trees that I’ve chopped up in the past few weeks, and it would be virtually indistinguishable from any of them. Later this evening, it will be nothing more than ashes that can be carried off by the wind. It will be gone, even though the damage that it did will last forever for some of us. In the same way, the good that Steve did, the things that he started here before he left, those things need to last forever, as well.

As I worked on the tree, I imagined how that tree should have been cut up. Steve bringing it down, my nephews watching with glee as it toppled, my brother reminiscing about trees he’d taken down with my dad. Undoubtedly, due to the size of it and the fact that it was in the driveway, Steve’s good friend C would have come over later with the log splitter and the two of them would have had a time of it, splitting wood and solving the problems of the world.

Later that afternoon, I would have rounded the kids up from their activities, and who knows? A sunny cold day like that would have been perfect for a quick fire in the fire pit, a few hot dogs roasted up, maybe some s’mores. The dogs would have been scampering through the snow, chasing anything that moved. Thanks to Steve running up and down the driveway with the truck and trailer a few times, the hardpacked snow would have been ideal for a few runs on the sled.

Instead, well, you know the story. And, I was left to finish the job on a hot day in May. I had to call C in to finish the cuts, because my little saw just couldn’t handle it. Both of us shed more than a few tears until the job was done. I purposely tried to complete the job when the kids weren’t around, so they didn’t have to relive the most awful day of their lives. The only things that remained the same were the bright blue sky and the dogs who were happy to frolic in the water and wrestle while we completed our somber task. At least that job is finished. Now, I have to turn my attention to finishing the rest of the things Steve started.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.