Red and the Circle of Life

Red is dead. Finally.

Red was one of Ian's pet fish. He was so-named for the red cap on top of his head. We all loved him because he was different from the others. Perhaps he won a special place in my heart because I felt sorry for him. He was tormented and abused by Tink, the larger goldfish bully of the tank. Tink used to ram Red into the rocks or against a wall of the tank to keep him from eating before she had her fill. Yes, even fish have a pecking order, it seems, and I have a soft spot for the underdog - or would it be underfish in this case?

Before Thanksgiving, a full five months ago, Red contracted dropsey, the fish version of edema. The bloating, air bubbles, and water retention in his body were severe enough to cause him to float upside down. Although we tried several methods of treating the condition, none were successful. He would get excited whenever I would walk near the tank because he knew I would reach into the water, turn him right side up, and hold him in my hand for a few minutes so he could eat. Still, he seemed to adjust to his new way of swimming and seeing the world, despite the fact that he was continually getting larger from excess fluid.

We prepared the kids early on that Red probably wouldn't live long. After a while, they stopped believing that Red would die, because he just kept on going and seemed fine to them. But yesterday, when I went into Ian's room to wake him up, I found Red had finally given up the fight. I didn't want Ian to start his day off with this kind of news, so I got him out of the room quickly. Better to give him bad news after the school day than let it affect his performance.

In the afternoon I told the kids. They seemed disappointed, but not terribly hurt. We got a zippy bag and put Red in it. Ian and Ainsley took turns carrying it to the trash can behind the house. I lifted the lid, and we all said, "Good-bye" to Red as we dropped him into his temporary grave.

And then, standing in our driveway in the spitting rain, the three of us cried over the death of an upside-down-swimming fish.

It actually felt wonderful . . . I know that sounds terrible, but let me explain. This was the first time both of my children understood the finality of death. It is such a difficult concept to comprehend, and probably even harder to accept. Ian was sad for a while, worked through it, and has moved on. Ainsley, on the other hand, misses Red. She mentions him each day, but the frequency is decreasing.

I am glad the kids are having this opportunity to practice grieving the loss of a fish. I don't want their first experience with death to be that of a human family member or friend. They need to understand that grieving is o.k., and that I am here for them. Ian seems to keep a lot of it inside and then let it explode later. Ainsley lets it all out at once, and then again when she remembers the loss, and then again...and again...and again. Ian finds that annoying.

Today after school, Ian and his friend Jack will begin cultivating a colony of Sea Monkeys. The circle of life will start anew.