My Beautiful Mess

My dad and I had a conversation last summer, before he ever got sick, during which he informed me that it was his desire to be cremated once he died. Not ever having had to face such an issue before, I felt at that time that this was an individual decision - if Dad wanted to be cremated, that was his choice and therefore, okay with me.

At the time of his funeral in November, I became very thankful for this decision. I don’t think I would have been able to see him in a coffin. And I believe I might have just totally lost it if I had had to watch that coffin being lowered into the ground.

As time has moved on, however, I have at times now wished I had a place to go “visit” Dad - a place to try to connect with him somehow. But this summer, it dawned on me - I have that place every time I step into my backyard. I love to garden, to work in the yard, to plant and work in the soil. This love has been passed on to me by my dad and was passed onto him by his mother (this love also comes from my mother and her grandmother). I have several very tangible connections growing in my yard every year, growing from seeds that I received from Dad.

One is my morning glories (I was wrong, Janet, I have morning glories not moon flowers!). They are just now starting to climb the trellis but will soon take over this entire space and produce pretty purple flowers every morning:

Also making a comeback every year is my hearty hisbiscus, which again, I grew from seeds from Dad - from his hibiscus. It too is getting ready to bloom:

This is what  I will soon see (pic from last summer):

Dad always grew a mass of sunflowers along one part of his fence on the side of his house. Frequently, my boys helped him plant his seeds when we would go visit and then they would get to see the fruits of their labor:

So last year, I planted a few seeds and got 3 big sunflowers. This year we have at least doubled the amount we planted and have started calling them our Papa flowers:

Another feature in my Dad’s yard that they boys loved was a flat birdfeeder he made himself. They helped him fill this feeder up everytime we went to visit:

Knowing how much that feeder meant to all of us, my precious husband made us one this winter for our yard. He found some wood scraps of my dad’s (he was also a woodworker) in his shop and made me this….I am so very, very grateful to have it:

So as I am out there watering, I think a lot about Dad. I think of the times growing up when we would wonder where Dad went, only to find him watering the plants outside. I think of how I would call him to ask him what was wrong with this plant or another in my yard. I think of all that he could have taught my boys about planting and growing things. And I think about how thankful I am for the seeds he has planted in our lives.