For the love of gardening
Tonight dear readers I’m going to change it up. Rather than reflecting and projecting, I am simply going to lead you into a special part of my universe. So strap in and enjoy the story of an important father figure in my life…..
I’ve had a few nick names in my life some hung around, some I can’t mention knowing my mother might read this and one that stuck. Grub! I actually don’t know why ‘Grub’ was the choice, maybe it was because I used to eat chocolates and get a messy face? Maybe it was because I could never keep my room clean? (Maybe my mum could shed some light) But ‘Grub’ was the name that my pop picked for me and still to this very day he lays it on me every now and then.
My dad passed just over 8 years ago, I was 21. Dad’s dad passed a few years later. Pop (aka Ronald) has been the father figure in my life since. He was pretty happy when I asked him to come and inspect the house I was buying, he was even happier when he could impart his wisdom of what needed fixing to make said house a stable home. But it was the day I told him I was going to garden he was clearly stoked. He immediately struck me a rose (which is apparently pretty hard to do) and I fought dam hard to keep that bloody thing alive. I was chuffed the day it sprung a bud and he was proud as punch of me.
But it was the vege garden that really bonded us. 2013 had been a pretty ‘effed’ up year; the silver lining though was the adult bond that grew (and continues to grow) with pop. Pop started to relish in imparting his vege wisdom, starting with basic cow poop advice, (I now am a suppler of the best cow shit in town to those who need it) to the best planting advice. He loved the fact that I stuffed up planting a whole packet of beetroots at once, even telling his mates about the lessons he was giving me. Even to my 30th birthday party, he bought me some tomato plants (which I promptly made him plant due to my alcohol incapability). And in my birthday book he wrote me a happy gardening message from said bond:
I saw my pop last night and today in a very different way. In the hospital. Now dear reader, I’m not big on displays of emotion and I hate crying but I can tell you that protected river of feelings I have runs very deep. And pop’s misfortune is unfair and scary as fuck (sorry mum couldn’t keep that one in). He’s a fighter, but I can’t help but wonder what happens from here. I think about my nan, my mum, and my family and realise he’s not just the important father figure in my life, but the important man for all our lives. So tomorrow I’ll tend to my garden and know it’s not just for the love of gardening. It’s for the love of a pop and his grub.