Listen to the Grass Grow and Other Things My Dad Taught Me.

Me and Dad 1978. I am 18; he is 43. 

My Dad died on May 8, 2019. He had cancer. He beat it down during the spring, summer and fall of 2018. It came back metastasized to his bones in February 2019. He tried to beat it down again but it was stronger than the available treatments. On Saturday, May 4th, he was taken to the emergency room. He had made it clear what he didn't want at the end of his life so the decision to start hospice was - not easy by any means - but it was easy to accept it as the right decision. It was clearly what he wanted.

The two weeks since he first went to the ER have been a chaotic time. My brain keeps wandering on a path all its own. Thoughts of my dad, my family, the past, the future. The lack of control for someone that thrives on order along with my ever-present self-doubt have made for some roller coaster adventures. I'm not a fan of roller coasters. :( 

On the up side, my wandering brain has landed often on what we'd call Dad-isms. There are many. I'll share two with you here. 

Listen to the Grass Grow. I'm sure he said it more than once but the memory it conjures up for me is our family and my cousins traipsing around Longwood Gardens. Between us at that time there were 12 children (6 of us and 6 of them) with about 9 years between oldest and youngest. 12 kids and 4 grownups. Even if my grandmother was there the odds were still in the kids favor. So here we are at Longwood Gardens. It was as hot as "you know where". Quite frankly I think it may have been hotter. We were cranky. Dad told us that if we could be very quiet we might be able to hear the grass grow. I don't think that bought him a lengthy peace - although we were just young enough to stop and think about it for a minute or two. "Listen to the Grass Grow" has stuck with me all these years. It comes back to me often. As I've gotten older, it has come to remind me of the need to stop, think and listen; to experience what's going on around you. 

Read with 'Spression. I don't know if dad actually said 'spression or if that came from one of us kids butchering the right word. Either way it was Dad who encouraged us to read with expression. To this day I (and likely all my brothers and sisters) can recite A.A. Milne's Poem -Disobedience by heart and with appropriate inflection and giving the various speaking parts the appropriate tone. All because Dad has us read it out loud with 'spression. It's the expression that makes a difference and makes it stick. Whenever I have to give a presentation at work (which is often) I think of the words I want to use and how I can say them with 'spression. Trust me, it works. I'm pretty sure I read to myself with 'spression too. :) 

I told you earlier that the last two weeks have brought me chaos of the brain. Staying focused on anything has been really hard. It's not that my thoughts are bad ones. I just wish I could have them when I want to and not all willy-nilly as they have been. I've been wondering if taking up meditation would help. Maybe if I practiced meditation I could get stronger in the head. I'm still not sure if I'll try it or not but it occurred to me the other day that my impression of meditation is that it is a lot like listening the the grass grow. 

Keep Smiling Keep Moving (and listen to the grass grow)

-Paula