I cried at Art Knapp to a stranger. This Is Grief.

I cried at Art Knapp today, to a stranger.

If my blog is new to you, you probably don’t know that I have lost both my parents in the last 6 years, with my dad passing away just 4 months ago.

My mom was a plant lover. Like she REALLY loved plants. My dad gave me one of the last few surviving ones 5 months ago and somehow managed to ‘revived’ it. From yellow, crispy leaves to a vibrant green, continuously growing.

At the end of the summer, the plant started to droop. “Weird,” I thought. I continued to watch it. Watering as needed. Still no difference. Worse even.

I moved it thinking it was getting too much sun but it only looked worse. Leaves were curling and turning brown.

I went on a quest on Stories to seek help.

Nothing helped.

I finally popped into Art Knapp over the weekend and found a nice lady whose passion towards plants shone through ever so vibrantly AND was free to help. Now if you are familiar with Art Knapp, it’s common to see the staff running around like mad (ie. they are busy!). I was in luck.

I showed her photos of my mom’s plant on my phone. She explained all the things that could’ve gone wrong. And then, as if she knew, she said ever so gently, “I don’t think it’s possible that this plant will come back.”

I looked down at my phone and tears began flowing down my face. I didn’t expect to feel this way. It felt like I had lost both of my parents all over again.

I didn’t want this plant to die.

It needed to get better.

This plant cannot die.

Not right now. Not ever.

She looked at me with the kindest eyes, “I know it’s hard because it belonged to your mom.”

I felt sadness. I pinched the inner corners of my eyes to stop the tears. I don’t even know

if this actually works – but I’ve seen others do this.

I let out some sobs before asking if there’s anything I can do to increase its chances of survival.

She suggested I repot it or propagate. (Where you cut off a healthy part of the plant and try to grow roots so that it can be it’s own plant. Google can provide a better explanation.😅)

So that’s what I plan to do. I know I have unconsciously attached a lot of emotions into this plant. When she told me that there was very little hope that it will get better, I felt like it was the oncologist telling us that my mom only had 18 months to live. And it was like watching the cardiologist, the neurologist, the oncologist all pulling every last trick they had to save my dad.

I shoved back the emotions that were causing the tears. I had an urge to give up on this plant and just buy another. This urge paralleled my actions when I found out my parents were sick – I pushed aside the fact that they were sick and tried to “be normal”.

But I didn’t do that this time. Not yet.

As much as I wanted to just tuck the plant away in the corner and forget about it, I pinched off stems and placed them in water.

I’m not to give up on this plant. I am letting a little bit of those feelings in. For now.

This is grief.