My Little Plant and I

Dear Mom,
             I wanted to share something, and you aren't around to call, so I am putting it out here on the blog.  It's about a plant.  A potted plant that I received at your funeral.  A former youth group member and her momma sent it to us when you died.  All the multitude of flowers that we received, and that filled our house after your wake, are now gone.  All but this one remaining potted plant.  It still has the original ribbon around the base that says comfort, and has grown a bit. It is beautiful, and full of life. 
  You know me, I do not have any semblance of green thumbery.  I have never kept a plant alive, that required care, more than two years in my life.  Just ask my best friend Auntie J, I killed almost all of her plants once when I was plant sitting, during a staywithhermomduringabrokenankle extended absence! The only other plant I did not kill was an amaryllis, which doesn't require frequent anything.  That plant turned into a game to see how long we could go without watering it.  It loved the abuse and being ignored.  The plant became a family joke. It was one I got for a Christmas/housewarming gift about 7 years ago! It has long since joined the plant retirement community in the sky.
   Any time a leaf turns brown and dies, I freak out.  I immediately start worrying if I have watered it too much?  Did I start the ball rolling, that sets in motion, the sequence of events that will lead to it's impending demise? I worry about this plant like I have never worried about anything green before.  It is strange to me how I worry about this plant.
   I silently look at it and greet it every morning.  In all my ridiculousness, I was thinking about why keeping this plant alive is so important to me.  I have come to the following conclusion.  I love this plant.  I love it like I have loved no other.  It symbolizes the last thing that you indirectly gave me.  The last thing that ties me to you.  I have no more mommy hugs, no more mommy kisses, no more giggles with my mother like we were little school girls, and no more fun girls day shopping outings with you, me and my daughter.  What I have, as I wrote in my last post, are Pictures and Memories.  It is the last thing that ties me to you(save all your stuff and family members).  I feel as if I fail this little plant, that I am somehow failing you.  I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's my comrade in arms.
   My little plant and I started this journey in grief together.  If the plant makes it, I guess I feel that so do I.  If I take care of it, then by living, it in a sort of therapeutic kind of way, takes care of me too.  I never 'got' plant people before, but now I kind of do.  I understand how an inanimate object can be a source of solace, companionship, and comfort.  So in honor of my plant of self realization, I will be naming it.  I will keep you posted on the naming of my little buddy!  I also may need to check out a bigger pot!