For those of you who don’t know, my dad passed away very unexpectedly a little over two years ago while doing yard work in the backyard of my childhood home. He was incredibly healthy, despite having undergone open-heart surgery about a year before, so the exact cause of what happened we will never know. Ever since then, I’ve been searching for something more meaningful to pour my energy into—a cause or project that feels like it connects me to him. But without knowing exactly what caused his passing, I never found that “obvious” outlet for my grief.
That all sort of began to change during this backyard transformation project we’ve been working on. Spending countless hours outdoors, focused on digging, mulching, and reshaping the space, left me with a LOT of quiet time alone to think. When you’re recording yourself and can’t use your phone or listen to music, you’re left alone with your thoughts. And for me, 99% of the time circled back to my dad.
My dad was the ultimate DIY king. He hand-painted the entire exterior of our house, dug trenches, bulk-ordered rock, laid sod, and transformed our outdoor areas with his own two hands. Every project brought him joy, and he always had a “next project” lined up. The week after he passed, I found his to-do list sitting next to the chair he always sat in in the basement. That’s just who he was—always working, looking forward to the next thing, and hardly ever sitting still.
Over the course of this month-long project, I’ve been coming to terms with the reality that I’ll never see him again on this earth. It still doesn’t feel real. But it got me thinking about how, in the last 4ish years of his life, both of his parents had already passed. When he worked on projects alone, he must have had time to reflect on them—on how they shaped him, loved him, and made him the person he was. It got me thinking about the thoughts that went through his head during those quiet hours of hard work and solitude alone.
This has led me to a realization: Gardening and working outdoors has been a form of healing for me. It might just be the purpose or outlet I’ve been searching for since his passing. If sharing this journey can inspire even one person who is grieving to get off the couch and find a little peace by working with their hands, then it’s worth it. That’s not to say there aren’t days to rest and reflect and be just plain sad, but there is something incredibly grounding and therapeutic about creating and tending to life, even in the wake of major loss.
So, I’ve decided to shift my gardening posts and content to a new page called Good Grief Gardening. This will be a space where I bring light to a topic that isn’t often discussed but is universally experienced: grief. I’ll share stories, memories of my dad, DIY projects, and reflections on how gardening helps me navigate this journey. It’s worth noting that the Bible mentions “grief” over 250 times and “garden” more than 60 times—I don’t think that is a coincidence.
Through this page, I hope to inspire others to see that they’re capable of more than they might think, whether it’s in their gardens or homes. Healing and growth are possible, one project, one memory, and one day at a time.
Good Grief Gardening 