Attending My First “Plant Funeral” Event in New York City: A Unique Urban Experience
Title: Saying Goodbye to Our Green Friends: The Rise of Plant Funerals
In an era when plant parenthood has become a cultural phenomenon, it’s no surprise that grieving the loss of a beloved houseplant would eventually blossom into a community ritual. On April 19, just ahead of Earth Day, New York’s Lower East Side gallery Chinatown Soup hosted an unusual but heartfelt event called “Root in Peace” — a plant funeral where participants came together to mourn their departed botanical companions.
Far from a joke or idle novelty, the gathering tapped into a profound truth for many urban-dwelling plant owners: taking care of greenery is both an art and an emotional journey. When these silent cohabitants pass away — victims of root rot, neglect, or sub-optimal light — the experience can be surprisingly sorrowful.
Plant Parenthood, and Its Loss
Our relationships with plants are intimate. We curate our space around them, talk to them, and watch them grow. When they die, however, the loss can feel strangely personal, if not guilt-inducing. “What began as a vibrant propagation of a monstera vine had withered away into nothing more than a dead leaf and a clump of dried-out roots,” one attendee shared. Her story was far from unique.
Dohyun Lee, an art director at Orchard Creative and the event’s organizer, conceived “Root in Peace” after the passing of his own snake plant — a species reputed for its hardiness. Inspired by the grief he and others felt, he envisioned a space where plant owners could reflect, mourn, and ultimately, let go.
A Celebration of Life, in Death
Upon entering the Chinatown Soup gallery, attendees were met with a cheeky welcome sign — “Welcome Plant Killers!” — and a room adorned in mock-funerary decor, such as incense, leafless stems, and soil-stuffed caskets. Gray tombstones sprouted from black planters filled with marigold seeds (a nod to renewal and rebirth), and along the walls hung paper portraits of mourners solemnly cradling their deceased flora.
Each display came with loving eulogies and confessions that wove grief with humor. One tag read: “She dreamed of jam, shortcake, and summer salads, but fate (and poor drainage) had other plans.” Another was blunt and grief-stricken: “I am sorry…” paired with an arrow pointing to the responsible plant parent.
More Than Mourning: A Communal Catharsis
For many, the funeral was a form of emotional release and solidarity. Bianca Caniero brought her deceased rosemary plant, a victim of winter neglect, and confessed to feeling “completely depressed” about its loss. For Samm Cohen, who admitted to hoarding three dead plant remnants, the event provided a moment of closure: “I thought, at least I’m giving them a good sendoff and respecting their lives.”
“Root in Peace” offered not only sympathy but also accountability. Participants acknowledged their roles — overwatering, underwatering, ignoring root rot — and, in doing so, accepted their own imperfections as caretakers.
The Role of the Plant Doctor
Guiding them through the healing process was Richard Pham, known in plant circles as “Plant Daddy MD.” Based in Brooklyn, Pham provided post-mortem diagnoses for the deceased plants, offering insight into what went wrong and advice on how to do better in the future.
“Even I’ve killed my fair share of plants,” Pham said candidly. “The only way you could truly understand a plant is when you see it through its life, but also its death.”
From Remorse to Renewal
What made “Root in Peace” particularly poignant was its message of hope. As attendees left, they were encouraged to plant the marigold seed tombstones they’d received — a botanical metaphor for moving forward.
For those mourning their green friends, the event proved that there’s a shared language of loss and growth. Much like humans, plants are sensitive to care, nurture, and environment. And much like our lives, their endings can signal not just destruction, but transformation.
Whether someone attended to grieve, reflect, or simply laugh at their gardening missteps, “Root in Peace” offered connection. In a culture where we often suppress small griefs, acknowledging the quiet death of a plant allowed deeper healing to take root — one marigold seed at a time.
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By reframing plant death not as failure, but as part of a larger cycle, events like the plant funeral teach us not only to be better gardeners, but more patient and understanding humans. After all, isn’t that what growth is all about?