07/23/2026
Eleven years ago, we lost my dad, Bob, to ALS. A man whose life revolved around creating beauty with his hands, working the land, and teaching others how things grow. That's one of the cruelest things about ALS, it doesn't just take a life. It slowly takes away the very things that make someone feel most like themselves.
At the age of 52, ALS began to take away the work/life he loved, and eventually, his ability to do any of it. But it could never take the lessons he had already planted in the people who loved him.
The older I grow, the more I realize these weren't just gardening lessons. They were lessons about resilience, patience, letting go, starting over, and trusting that growth is often happening beneath the surface long before we can see it.
Every time I step into a garden, I'm reminded of what ALS stole from our family, but even more, I'm reminded of what it couldn't take! His wisdom. His kindness. His way of seeing the world. Those things still continue growing.
I find myself listening for his voice in the garden, and in many ways, I think tending to plants is one of the ways we still get to spend time with him.
