“Jennifer, I want you to have this,” whispered the old woman through cracked lips. Her knotted hands fumbled for a small potted plant on the nightstand. A short stem, an handful of small leaves, one already turning a light tan color. “This is Joe. I named him after your grandfather.”

The girl took the plant from her grandmother, turned the pathetic looking thing over in her hands.

“Take good care of him.”

“Um, sure Grandma. How do I..?” But as Jennifer looked up, Grandma was gone.

***

A week later and Joe had a new home on the windowsill in Jennifer’s room. Jennifer, black dress, eyes red-ringed, shook her head as she looked at the plant.

The one tan leaf was gone, the others starting to shrivel. Jennifer poured a little water from a small yellow watering can she had bought the day after her grandmother had passed.

“What’s wrong with you?” she fussed.

She sagged onto her bed, pulled out her phone. Messages from friends, the standard platitudes; “Thinking of you…”, “So sorry…”, “Our deepest sympathies…”

She swiped them away, opened the web browser, typed “plant care tips” and hit search. A wave of advice filled the screen, every page different - water, don’t water, sun, no sun, plant foods, nutrients, soil pH, inside, outside, pruning, repotting…

Jennifer sighed. “God dammit.”

***

“Look, I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Joe sat on the counter, barely more than a bent stem and one tiny green leaf clinging onto life. The store clerk, a boy not older than Jennifer herself, shuffled his feet and buried his hands in his green apron pockets. “I’m not sure…”

“Well this is a nursery,” Jennifer, almost shouting, slammed her palm on the counter. “You must know what’s going on!”

The clerk looked at her then quickly looked away, back to Joe. “Yeah, well, we do, but, but I don’t,” he managed to stammer out.

“What?”

“Mr. Johansson is the expert. He’s away. If you just come back next week…”

Jennifer threw her hands in the air. “Can’t you see I don’t have a week?” she screamed, her eyes starting to wet. She snatched up the plant, swiveled on her heel.

***

1am. Dark in the room save for the moonlight trickling in through the open curtains.

Jennifer lay on the edge of her bed, Joe back on the windowsill, his last leaf clinging on for dear life. Jennifer sobbed gently into her pillow.

“I’m sorry, Grandma. I tried. I’m sorry.”

In the gray light the last of Joe’s leaves slipped away from the stem, coming to rest on the soil below.

Jennifer’s sobs turned into a wail, muffled as she buried her face.

Her Grandma was finally gone.

***

In her dreams that night, Jennifer was back at her grandmother’s bedside. She was crying, uncontrollably and unstopping, while the dying woman looked up at her and smiled. The same smile she gave when Jennifer scraped her knee when she fell off the swing as a child.

“Joe’s dead. I didn’t know what to do.”

Jennifer’s grandmother reached up a tiny, time-worn hand and stroked Jennifer’s hair. “It’s alright, dear. everything will be alright.”

***

The morning sun filled the room with orange light, casting long shadows on the walls. Jennifer’s eyes cracked open, her first sight being the small red plant pot on the windowsill.

She knew she had to throw it away, lose the last piece, the last physical piece she had of her grandmother.

But not now.

She turned over to face the wall, closed her eyes once more to sleep a restless sleep.

Not now.

***

It was mid-afternoon when she finally awoke properly. She swung her legs off of the bed, her shoulders aching, her eyes red raw.

It was time.

As she stood and moved to the window she saw something new. The smallest nub of green on the top of Joe’s stem. Jennifer peered closely at the tiny shoot. What was this?

She checked the soil - damp still, but she topped it up anyway, moved Joe so he was catching the most of the morning sun.

“Please, please, please,” she begged, before starting her internet search again.

***

The next day, after a sleep that left Jennifer more tired than when she started, the minute bump was a full-on bud. Something was in there, something growing.

In the warmth of the morning sun, her head resting on her arm as she sat her silent vigil, Jennifer drifted into sleep.

***

She awoke with a start, the sun having now moved across the sky. From her low down resting place Jennifer could no longer see the top of Joe’s stem.

She straightened up.

A single, beautiful, light pink flower, glorious in the sunshine. It’s petals barely open hinting at the heart within and the promise of future life.

A tear ran down Jennifer’s cheek, a tear of pure happiness, of relief, of celebration. Life returning.