A Death in the Family

A death in the family is a sad time for everyone, especially the youngest members, and so it was for us when we found our goldfish belly up this morning. I remember that one of the reasons we got the goldfish was because a family therapist told me that fish were an excellent way for kids to learn about death. He said the stakes weren’t as high with fish because people don’t get attached to them like a dog or cat. Someone forgot to tell my five-year-old this as she sobbed piteously in my arms. As I searched for the right words to say to comfort my baby girl, who was facing death and all its ramifications for the first time, I heard her small voice. I listened fearing some question about whether fish go to heaven, but instead it was “Can I get a new fish?” Suddenly I felt like I was holding Damian instead of my daughter but I agreed that, yes, we could get a new fish.

Now, as you know from reading this Blog, I am never completely certain as a parent. Should I make her wait a while before she gets a new fish? Should I help her go though Kubler-Ross’s 7 stages of dying?? Did she need anger, denial, acceptance, etc. to truly learn from this experience?

I don’t know if a new fish was the right response, but I vividly remember being about six when my pet rabbit was viciously killed by our own dogs. I recall asking my mother over and over, “Why would they do it? I loved that rabbit.” It was a big fat white rabbit and I remember my Dad arriving home from work. He called me over to the car where he had the cutest, most adorable baby rabbit. Let’s just say I screamed with joy and never looked back.

We had the funeral in the yard and put the fish in a small box that used to hold 1-inch nails. The only problem that arose was when I went to write “Cutie Pie” on the outside of the box. My daughter indignantly informed me that the fish was named Pearl. This was the first I’d heard of this name. The fish had been Cutie Pie for as long as I could remember. I felt bad letting this creature go to the here-after with the wrong name, but I was not going to get into a fight with my grieving daughter.

We spent about an hour at the pet store checking out pretty much every goldfish they had in stock. She finally settled on a fairly ugly white one with an orange head. Personally I like my goldfish orange, but it was her choice. As we were walking out of the store I asked her about a name. She said the new fish’s name was … wait for it… “Pearl.” According to Charlotte, her white color was perfect for such a beautiful name. She said she missed Cutie Pie but was so happy to have Pearl. I still feel bad about the name on the box.

Comments

Maybe the fish's name was: Cutie Pie Pearl Jones or whatever! Anyways, sorry to hear about your fish. My fish was named Sushi--I guess I shouldn't be amazed that he didn't live that long.

Sorry to hear about your fish, whatever the name was.

You know, in the obits here, everyone seems to have a nickname that has nothing to do with their given name.

Your fish would read something like: Cutie Pie "Pearl" Smith. It would fit right in with "Stinky" "Booger" and all the rest.

I had a good laugh when you said you felt like you were holding Damian instead of yor own daughter! Just wait til I tell you this: When I was four, my parents bought me a pair of goldfish (so that they wouldn't be lonely), and I named them after my parents. Isn't that cute?
Anyway, a few months later my dad leaned down to show me the fishbowl he was holding in his hands. I remember looking down into the bowl and seeing their floating dead orange bodies and their blank dead fish eyes.

Then I laughed. I think my dad thought there was something wrong with me, because he just stared at me and eventually shook his head and walked away. I got new fish for 10 cents each a week later =)