The Houseplant Funeral

Submitted by a reader, memorial program enclosed. We observed the moment of silence.

The Incident — I gave a friend a fern when they moved somewhere with real light. I had raised it from a cutting; it represented two years of my attention. On my first visit, four months later, the fern was on the balcony, entirely brown, still in its nursery pot. A watering schedule had been provided at the time of the gift, in writing. When asked, they said the fern was "going through something."

The Response — I printed a memorial program. Folded cardstock; a photograph of the fern in better days on the cover; an order of service inside — opening remarks, a reading, a moment of silence to be observed at the recipient's discretion — and a eulogy running two full columns that names no one but is specific about the watering schedule. Twelve copies were mailed to their address in one envelope, so there would be enough for guests.

The Escalation — A sympathy card followed a week later, offering condolences on "your loss" and support "during this difficult time," and enclosing a care sheet for the replacement fern, which had already shipped and could not be refused.

Current Friendship Status — Grieving, allegedly. The replacement is alive. They send me photographs of it weekly, unprompted, with timestamps.