Bittersweet Book Birthday

As many of you know, 2021 was a very difficult year for me and my family. My dad was diagnosed with stage 4 head and neck cancer (two types) in December 2020. I knew it was a death sentence; he was determined to fight it. I knew in my heart that fighting it would result in the same poor quality of life as not fighting it. I hate that he suffered, though he denied he was ever in pain until his final weeks, but respect his decision to want to beat the sh*t out of cancer. He left us six months after he started treatment. It was a whirlwind of care and the daughters are just starting to move forward with our lives after the trauma.

I was with him when I turned my book in on Feb. 1, 2021 to my editor. I was still helping care for him and take him to treatment 2 weeks later when my editor wrote back and told me I had written “a magnificent book”, one he believed was “destined to become a classic”. I read this aloud to my dad in the kitchen, the man who made it almost 83 years without owning an email address, computer, or cell phone. This was an intermediary space, some of the rare daily moments when he was on his feet, navigating the commute between the bathroom and the couch. He tipped his head back, rolled his eyes, and gave a joyful, exasperated “whoa!”. I don’t live for my parents’ pride and acknowledgment, but by that time I knew he’d probably be gone before it came out.

Compounding the trauma is to understand that we had already lost part of our mother years earlier. She has memory loss, and by the time he fell terminally ill she was much farther along her dementia journey than we had realized; Dad was adept at keeping secrets. He protected her from us, which in turn allowed him to let her live as her independent self as long as possible. In hindsight it was both brave and reckless, and yet also loving and kind.

Today, the book comes out, and I don’t really have parents to celebrate it with. For some reason, this feels significant, arriving at this massive lifetime milestone without parents to cheer me on. It feels a little lonely, I’m not gonna sugar coat it.

I was with my parents when this book concept germinated, on the same property where they honeymooned, where my dad’s mom spent time, and where many wonderful and strong female ancestors frequented. It was an auspicious place for the book idea to take form, and I always have that space and the fact that my dad and mom were among the first people to hear me think through this idea out loud. It felt like an intergenerational blessing that the thesis for this book came to me in this location.

And I’ll never forget it. At that time I had a book deal in hand from a smaller publisher, one destined to publish in February 2021 — a full 13 months sooner than today. And, at that time, I was invited to present book ideas to Timber Press, which was the idea for a book about succession gardening that became Plant Grow Harvest Repeat (my initial book title was Succession Gardening, but the powers that be struck that down and I then I came up with the current title). I shared that their books are superior in quality and the tradeoff is that the process was a full year longer. My dad did that same eye roll and laugh, but this time it was, “2022?! I may not be around by then.” It was as if he knew the cancer was brewing inside him.

So while this is a massive celebration, tears are definitely part of the day. Tears of joy, tears of sadness. Because, the biggest secret I’ve come to learn over the past two years is that as children we are permitted to live wholly in joy or despair, but as we grow and mature we realize that every moment is an amalgamation of all the senses and emotions.

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