My old orchid passed away
It was a pretty plant. Although it looked like any other orchid, the flower was white with dark purple dots, it has been with me for just over 12 years, and finally, it's life called an end.
I was a bit upset when it started showing the symptoms: dry leaves, rotten roots, and no flowers. It always came back every Spring, but not this year. Dan looked up for me said the orchid would normally live for 10 to 15 years, my little friend did well!
It was my first plant I had when I first moved into my first studio flat 12 years ago. Over the excitement that I finally had my privacy, independence, and a job. Unlike a couple of years before that, when I just landed in this country, my life was fully of uncertainty, I finally got to stay, at least at a short term, I had a goal to reach - stay longer. I went to the Morrisons under the flat, picked up this little orchid. Like any 'pet' you might have, the longer staying gave me a hope that I can have the responsibility to look after this little plant longer.
After so many years, I had a lot of plants. Most of them are still alive, but sadly not all of them. There were quite a few of the plants, no matter how much I tried to keep them alive, they just abandoned me. Regardless the ones I saved under my cat's paws ( or didn't make it), some of them I rescued from other supermarket when they were giving them up with an orange sticker on them, the little orchid had always been well. It almost blooms every year!
Just like everything else, its life would eventually end.
One of my best friend's dad passed away recently. She wasn't in a very good relationship with him. The whole story was very long, but seemed so short when he's gone. She hated him, I think, but the end of his life somehow brought her an entire forgiveness.
Everything dies in the end, but not all death means the end of the story. In most cases it is, but not all.
A couple of months ago, I tried to arrange a trial for the drawing class in my shop and I thought of inviting some friends to come along to give me some advice. Except a few of them were occupied, I suddenly found myself have almost no one else here in the city I could ask to come! There are certain things I couldn't even start the conversion for the invite, when you know the answer is 'maybe' towards to 'no'. Like we say: easy to make a meal, hard to find the guests. Even I preferred to stay alone, the shock of loneliness was real.
I had many friends in the past, mostly in my younger years. Then the longer I leave them alone, the faster I found them vanish. Adulthood friendship is very fragile. The deeper you tangled with someone, the more hurtful you'd be when they left. So we have all been so careful, that try not to attached to someone too deep, almost like preparing to leave at any time.
Perhaps that's why I felt very sad when my little orchid died. The corps are still sitting in the pot. Dan said 'it's just resting' but I know it won't come back this time. A kind lie covers the pain, and not ready to find any replacement for its pot, perhaps that's becoming its tomb, with no special headstone, but a pile of woodchips to rest it in the peace.
For any other plants I have now, I try not to put too much emotion in them - It's defiantly not easy. A few of plants carries the memories of the places I lived before, the person who gifted them to me or the event when I got them with someone. Some of people have vanished from my life, only left the plant, like a living headstone, a proof of the past, a certificate. I keep them alive, watering them, fertilising them, repot them until they die one day, becoming a real tomb, reaching the end of their story.
