RIP

Yesterday afternoon I went into M's room for episode II of my twice-daily Poking Of The Fish, and found Nemo face-planted in the colorful gravel at the bottom of his tank. OH CRAP.

Still not believing he could actually be dead at this point -- since he's faked us out more than once over the course of the past week, the little shit -- I retrieved our fish net and used the thin handled end to conduct a cursory physical examination. Poke, poke. Nothing. Not so much as a fin flutter. That was one dead fish, man. Don't think you can get much deader. This fish is no more. It has ceased to be.

As a side note, this week I couldn't help but be continually reminded of the Monty Python Dead Parrot sketch, and have been silently performing both sides of the dialogue in my mind:

Oh Monty Python, is there anything you can't make funny?

Not so funny, of course, was M's response to the news that Nemo had finally and definitely gone to the great fishbowl in the sky. Her genuine, heartfelt mourning over this loss was touching... if somewhat disturbing. Because she was, probably for the first time in her life, grappling with the matter of death, and clearly struggling to understand it. “Will Nemo come back tomorrow?” she asked, through tears. And later, perplexingly, “When I die will I still be in your belly?” It's as if she's searching for an out in this whole death thing, an escape hatch of rebirth or reincarnation -- something to temper the crushing enormity of death's permanence. But then don't we all?

I held her, dried her tears, and gave her a lollipop. I'm sure I probably could've handled things better -- made the moment into something exploratory and instructive about life and the world -- but all that seemed to matter was stopping the tears, the pain. Making things all better. Isn't that what Mommies do?

Tags: children, death, family, kids, life, motherhood, mylife, parenting, personal, pets

Comments

[Mrs. Kennedy]

Seriously, we went through this with a whole tankful of fish with Jackson crying his little heart out every time one died. NO MORE FISH FOR US. Nice hearty tortoise! That will probably outlive us all.

[Kaleigh]

When our cat died (not the first death the kids had to deal with, but the first one they witnessed), we buried her in the back yard. About a week later, my four-year-old son had a shovel. Because he wanted to check to see if she was still there or had gone to heaven. (Now he's eight and an atheist...I should've seen that coming!)

[foodmomiac]

Poor Nemo. Poor M. Give up another lollipop on me.

We had a series of fish when Dylie was 2 and 3. They kept dying, and she became more and more immune to it.
Then, my grandfather died when she was 3.5, and as I was crying, she turned to me, held my face very tenderly, and said, "It's OK mama. We can get another Papa Izzy."

[Average Jane]

If it makes you feel any better, my *husband* cries every time one of his fish dies. Fortunately, he finally got the hang of keeping a betta fish alive, so we still have the one he bought in 2004.

[Sue]

I hate fish, but I'm sorry about yours. Poor M. My daughter is fascinated with death. My husband likes to respond with talk about heaven and angels and all that jazz, and now she thinks that dying is like going to Disneyland. "Emma, look both ways before you cross the street, or you might get hit by a car." "That's o.k., because then I'll get to go to heaven!"

[other sweetney]

Another tough parenting moment... when M. was doing that "fake crying" thing cuz she was sad (all parents know the "fake cry") I said to her, "We can be sad without crying."
Her (heartbreaking) response, "But how do I do that?"
"By quietly remembering all the fun you and Nemo had. And knowing he's happy wherever he is."

Ouch. The ouch that has to happen as part of that whole "growing up" thing I'd rather not happen.

[sweetney]

thanks, guys.

and Mrs Kennedy: we've discussed the turtle option. tis good? my main issue is that i DO NOT NEED ANOTHER LIVING THING TO TAKE CARE OF. i mean, a thing more labor-intensive than a fish. i have three cats, a dog, a child, and a husband on my plate as it is, yanno?

[mike]

Buddhism: It's not too late.

(There's a bumper sticker in there somewhere.)

[capacious]

We once came hom from vacation and found our goldfish frozen in its tank.

We were raising a butterfly a few years ago and my husband left me a note saying "Catty-pilly has gone to the great beyond." I tossed the caterpillar (although it must have been a chrysalis at that point - hey, I was tired back then) and found a butterfly in the garbage the next morning. We are dumb at our house.

[Kelly]

RIP

We've had the death conversation many times. It wasn't directly related to a death of a pet or anyone, but just of general pondering. Last night, the baby busted out with, "Will Life end?" As in, like, all of LIFE. We had quite a heavy conversation and he's somewhat freaked out, but seem comforted by the fact that that stuff freaks me out, too.

[jodi]

The first fish to go "tits up" (my husband has such a poetic way about him.) was a sad time at our house. The oldest is a sweet, loving soul that clearly was switched at birth...anyway...we had to have a funeral for "fishy" and all of his stuffed animals attended...there was a beautiful eulogy...touching on the finer points of "fishy's" life. How he was a good fish. How he always listened. How he never got in trouble. It was hard to hold the laughter in...then when the big FLUSH went down...the tears were CRAZY. We have since stopped caring for fish. We have a cat and a dog now and I am NOT looking forward to their demise!

[Tracy]

Oh, this is heart-wrenching. I already want to throw up every time my two-year-old faces a little playground rejection - these kinds of life lessons scare the bejeezus out of me.

[SusieJ]

I'm sorry. What a tough lesson for any kid. Our local clown around carnival is next week, and my boys are already planning to win a fish to replace the one we got there last year that died.

[jozet]

"I held her, dried her tears, and gave her a lollipop."

Sometimes, death is so much bigger than words can handle - either in explanation or in comforting.

Your reponse was perfect.

There's a whole lifetime to struggle with the big questions. One fish at a time.

[All Adither]

And you didn't even have to whisper into his fish ear that it was okay to let go, that you'd make it without him...

[Tuesday]

somtimes that is all we can do.

[BOSSY]

You did the right thing, unlike Bossy who would have told her kids that the fish has gone off to a Fish Farm where it will work in little Fish Fields and swim in a farm pond through eternity.

[Twisted Cinderella]

Your poor little one.

I recently had to introduce the heartbreaking concept of death to Princess when I had a miscarriage. It is tough to try to explain the unexplainable.

[Her Bad Mother]

Aw. We lost a fish once. His name was Gilles 'The Fish' Poisson (RIP). I insisted upon burying him, because the toilet seemed too profane. Sadly, the cat found his corpse in the planter and violated it. Gruesome, and tragic.

Thankfully, we did nto yet have children, and did not have to explain how ugly the circle of life gets.

Aren't you glad that I shared that story?