It's a sad day. Dorothy the goldfish has kicked the bowl. I changed her water today, and when Jacob came home, he noticed that Dorothy was swimming upside down. Within an hour or two, she wasn't moving anymore. I know she's just a goldfish, but I can't help feeling sad and guilty that I let this poor creature down.
We bought Dorothy for Esme when she started sleeping in her big girl bed, as a way to celebrate her graduation to this next stage. Esme named Dorothy (after Elmo's fish, of course - there must be hundreds of thousands of Dorothy fishes around the world thanks to Sesame Street) and helped feed her everyday. The day we bought her, I asked the store clerk whether the fish would be happy alone in a bowl. She said that the fish would probably be happier with the extra space than with a pal.
But I noticed everyday as I went to the changing table where Dorothy's bowl was that Dorothy swam towards me with a look that seemed like a cry for help. Okay, so maybe she was just conditioned to me because the sight of me often meant food. But I couldn't help but wonder if she could possibly be happy in that little bowl. Then one day, I was reading about goldfish online for tips on changing her water. This website says that you shouldn't keep a goldfish in a little bowl. But I wasn't ready to invest in a larger fish tank because we have no room for it.
Now I feel just horrible. Pets (even goldfish) become part of the family and it is sad to say goodbye.
How do you explain death to a two year old? Jacob is talking about a "long vacation." I'm not sure what I'm going to say.
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Post Script:
When Esme finally asked me instead of Jacob where Dorothy was, I tried to explain, "Dorothy had to go bye bye. We all have lives, and our lives don't last forever. It was time for Dorothy to end this life and go on to the next stage."
Esme started to cry. I held her and said, "It's okay to cry. I cried, too. We're going to miss Dorothy, aren't we." She only cried for about five seconds, and then she was off playing again.
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This autumn was one for us filled with the lessons on bereavement and toddlers. It started with an otherwise astonishingly active and sharp-minded great grandma being given a 6 month prognosis, after an unexpected diagnosis with cancer. How to explain that to 2 1/2 year old Imogen. We decided to wait and just say that she was poorly.
Soon after, when visiting Grandma and Grandad where the Great one was now residing, Imogen came running inside carrying a stunned bluetit which had knocked itself out on the window. We laid it on a shady stone and gave it drips of water and crumbs until it flew away. Later that same day she came in with a songthrush that 'Wouldn't wake up'. What to do? I gently explained that this one had died, and that its body needed to go 'Back to nature'. And so we buried it on the top of the hill. I asked Immi if she had any thank-yous for the bird, and she said 'Thank you for your tweeting, thank you for your flying and thank you for eating mosquitoes' Then we put a few flowers on the little grave so that the bird's family could find it again, should they want to say goodbye.
When Great-Grandma passed on, I explained that she had died, and Imogen asked 'Is she going back to nature?' My affirmation was unneccessary, but opened up a list of thank-yous from Imogen, which I worte down to be included in the funeral service.
I explained to Imogen that although my mother died, she still lives in my heart and in my songs and in my cooking. She taught me how to be the mother I am, and so Immi knows her even without ever meeting her.
Teaching about death in the smallest instances is what gives a child the ability to comprehend and process the larger losses.
Now, when something dies, we can say that they have gone back to nature, but live on in our hearts.
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