Some things are just difficult

Some things are just difficult
It is my Karma/Luck/Joy to always seem to get the customers who want to plant a little memorial for their recently deceased pet. The interactions always start out simply enough. A customer asks for a pretty flower that will grow in a certain spot. Perhaps they will enquire about a certain color or type. Nothing too strange there. So I ask the usual questions about light, water requirements, color of bloom, etc. It's usually at that point that the crying starts. Sometimes they immediately apologize and explain just what turned on the waterworks. Often they just stand there and sob.
Now it's not that I'm unsympathetic or that I can't empathize. When my dog passes on, I will be a red nosed, puffy-eyed mess for days. It's just those extremely uncomfortable moments when I have no idea what's going . Things like this are hard enough with people you know, but even harder with strangers. Eventually they will explain and I will express my truly sincere sympathy, but it just gets worse from there. People in this situation are often looking for that perfect plant that will make everything OK. They want that beautiful white tea rose that will bloom all year in the shade of their oak tree so that they can remember their white cat Snowball. I then become the person that has to tell them that it's impossible. Yes, we have white tea roses. No, they don't bloom all year. No they don't grow in shade. And good luck in finding anything pretty to grow under that oak tree. Of course, I do try and give them the news in the kindest way possible, but it always leads to more crying.
Even if I can find a plant that will work, it's still hard. One customer wanted a good sized plant with flowers to plant over the grave of his daughter's rabbit. He explained how his daughter and her mother wanted something that they could water every day as a way of remember the bunny. I was almost in tears at that point. But then, as she stood there next to him, staring up at me with big brown, watery eyes waiting for my answer, he leaned over and whispered, "And I only want to spend $5." If money isn't an issue, there are always those awkward questions about what size to buy. It honestly makes me really uncomfortable when someone buys a plant in a really large container. That's a big hole to dig. A big, deep, hole. I suggest perhaps they buy a smaller plant so they can enjoy it's growth over time. Once the size is settled I'm usually off the hook. But then sometimes they ask. The question I dread the most,
"Do I need to fertilize this?"
Oh that just gives me chills.