Is there a fishy-heaven?

As if we didn't have enough on our agenda today with up-teen-thousand things to do at the clinic in readying exam-rooms and things for our wonderful new PT to start tomorrow...nature and fate decided to add in the loss of our beloved Gary-fish. :(

Now, I know what some of you may be thinking. -->A fish? Really???
I'm gonna give up time to read a blog about... a fish?!
Well. I hope you do. Cause Gary was not just any fish... he was part of the Ziebart family 'history.'

Shortly after Gray turned 3, he began asking me if he could have a pet in his room. It all initially started when we visited some friends whose kiddo (about Gray's age) had some pet goldfish. After about two months worth of begging and pleading, this mama made a deal that if he saved up his money, I would take him to the store to pick out a special fish-friend and budget-wise fishy 'habitat,' food, etc. When Gray had upheld his end, he, myself and baby-brother headed to the store where, I THOUGHT, we'd find a nice, thirty-cent goldfish that would last us *if we were lucky* maybe a few months--long enough for Grayson to feel we'd carried out the deal. However, as we were looking around, Gray spotted the beta containers and fell. in. love. with their 'pretty tails' and colors. Two dollars and six cents more than I thought we were bound to spend *not to mention being a beta-'virgin', myself* I reluctantly agreed. After-all, my sweet little kiddo was spending his own money to do this--why should he not get to choose. Plus, I spied a nice, small and inexpensive little beta-tank that fit the bill while Gray was still gawking at the betas--so I decided, what the hay! Before the full sentence, 'I suppose you could have one of those, Gray' could escape my mouth, my little kiddo was snagging up a lively, beautiful blue and red beta from the container stack.

one pretty beta fish--$2.36
A fake plant--$.99
one bag of aquarium pebbles--$1.19
one funny Sponge-bob tank-figurine--$1.05
one perfect-sized plastic beta-tank--$5.00
one dreamy-eyed, ecstatic and verbally over-appreciative child--PRICELESS

Little did I know that day that that one little beta fish would become such a loved, important 'member' of our little family. And maybe, because mommy ended up being it's primary care-provider, such an important little creature to me, too.

Like a mother diapering a baby for the first time, I religiously and cautiously changed his water every two weeks.. transferring him out of his little aquarium with a store-bought net and letting his half tap-water, half beta-water sit for the full 24 hrs suggested. Each morning I entered the boys' room, prepared to see a sick and/or dead beta--not because I don't believe I can raise a fish, but just out of sheer lack of confidence and experience in doing so. This attitude lasted all of about a month, after which the happy and quite energetic little dude conditioned me to think that maybe, just maybe, he was gonna stick around with us for a little while. That 'little while' turned into three-and-a-half years, which, now I know is about the average a beta lives when kept happy and healthy. Upon having a conversation with one of the local pet-store employees a few months back, I began preparing the boys with the concept that Gary was an 'old man' and would likely not live for more than another year or so.

Little did I know then, that through preparing them for a Ziebart-family, minus Gary, I was also subconsciously preparing myself. I found myself in denial that I felt so strongly about A FISH... until, yesterday... when Gary took his last breath. In meditating on this feeling in the quiet moments of our seemingly never-ending paint-projects at the clinic, it hit me.
Yes, we'd already been through the tears with the little men the night before when Gare-bear had decided to sit on the bottom of the tank, nustled in his rocks--wearing all the signs of a creature meeting it's end. We'd already been back at the pet-store, pointing out other fish and possible new family-members. Of course, even I have been through many a fishes life...'Hermie' being mine and Aaron's first beloved 'pet', together. *Remember, Aaron?* ;) But for whatever reason, this was different.. and the more I tried to make it no big whoop, the bigger and bigger the 'whoop' felt!

We've been reading chapter books for the last year or so, now, and just finished Charlotte's Web. Anyone who knows the story, remembers the saddest of second-to-last chapter... the bittersweet ending... where Charlotte sits in her corner, barely able to respond to her poor, innocent pig-friend let alone move back down onto her web. My tender little buddies let out more than one empathetic 'Aaaaaawe' as we read that part... and two evenings ago, even daddy reminded the boys of that part of death when they were so concerned that Gary wouldn't 'get up' from his rocks. Waking up that next morning to a fish that was still fighting to live extended the gut-ache we all had. If nothing else, just to watch a poor little creature lay there, suffering. I won't lie and say I didn't more than once have the thought of just 'oops-ing' him into and down the toilet, but then when I actually finally suggested it, Grayson blurted out.. 'No! I don't want Gary to have to die in my poop!' hahaha

So, instead, we retrieved a medicine thinking, somehow... maybe... we could do something to save him.

We weren't here to see Gary take his last breath. That too made me feel bad. *I know, keep laughing* I just found myself over and over and over, in my head saying, 'Hayley! ITS. A. FISH. Just a fish. F.I.S.H. But my heart just couldn't hear me. WOULDN'T.
Why all this...over a fish!

While sitting on the clinic floor yesterday, brushing a fresh, glossy coat of wet paint on the window trim in our new PT's exam room, a sudden wash of tears *I hadn't shed ANY, mind you*.. overcame me. Before I dropped my brush, I found the paint can beside me, leaned over, laid the brush across the top and fell to my knees. Literal out of control 'elephant tears' *as we call Lincy's* come shooting out of my eyes. Our first 'family death' since the threat of my own this past challenging year and the realization of the affect that a fish had on my sons. All the worry and concern for my sons and the threat my absence from their life coming to a head just poured from me.
After about 30 seconds of uncontrolled water-works, it was as though someone reached over and turned the faucet off. I wiped my face, picked up my brush, stood up and got back to work. Not two brush strokes in, I found myself again, emotionally out of control--but this time with joy and thank-giving. I couldn't thank God enough for even just one more day. One more day to see my sons grow. One more day to 'put up with' their boyhood antics--poop and burp obsessions and the like. One more day for Gray to drive me to the very edge of nutty with the same question twenty-five times over.

One more day to make sure they know their mama loves them.


The boys asked me after we took care of Gary's little lifeless fish-body if there's a heaven for fish. I explained that animals don't really have spirits in the same way that we do and we re-visited the conversation of creation and the order of things not being coincidental. They understood... but at the end of that thought process we all agreed that Gary's life was full and happy. He was always eager to greet our faces at the side of his tank, opening his gills wide and squirming gleefully *probably more of his fighting-fish response* but we liked to say it was his way of saying 'hi' back. His life was SIMPLE. But for what a fishes life could be, it was rich. He was fed, he was comfortable and he was loved.

If there's a better example of what more we need to have the same for ourselves in our lifetime--whether short or long--I'm not sure what it would be~