I got a philodendron (hanging in center of above picture) from the many plants that were sent to the funeral home when my dad died .... 27 years ago today. When I talk about my father to my kids, I always call him "Daddy", because that's who he was to me. He died before any of the kids were born, so they don't know him as "grandpa". When they talk about "Daddy", they are talking about my dad, not theirs ... and they have always referred to the philodendron as "The Daddy Plant".
I've taken good care of it in recent years, but there were many years that went by where this poor plant was sorely neglected. Through all those years of inattention, that poor plant held on, although I have no idea how! It had to be jealous when it saw me outside watering my flowers religiously, and it probably felt like a cruel joke when it watched the rain nourish the plants on the other side of the glass.
A few years ago I made a vow to quit neglecting my inside plants. Once I began making an effort to be a good plant mom, it thrived ... so much so that it was getting out of control and I had to cut it back. I started pots of "The Daddy Plant" for each of the kids. My oldest daughter is taking care of her Daddy Plant, but I have custody of the other two "grandplants". I'll transfer custody to them when they are ready for that kind of responsibility!
A few weeks ago I noticed the palm plant in the Daddy Plant has some berries. I accept them as a gift to say, "I forgive you, and thank you for finally taking care of me."