One of our four Beta Fish is swimming erratically. It swims as if it has helium in its tiny belly, flapping its lacy fins, trying not to turn sideways.
I am alarmed and I would do CPR or offer oxygen to this little creature, but of course, it’s a $3.59 fish from Wal-Mart and I have no magical powers of healing for fish. Poor thing. The other fish in the container (divided by an opaque blue plastic panel) seemed near death a few weeks ago and recovered, so perhaps I am overly pessimistic.
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I read and watched two particularly depressing things this weekend. First, I saw “The Wrestler,” the film that Mickey Rourke stars in. It’s his “comeback” and he was nominated for Best Actor. As expected, the story was grim and gritty. Very sad.
I finished reading The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. It’s a memoir of the year following her husband’s sudden death. (They’d been married forty years.) While I appreciated the writing, I found her disbelief in any sort of afterlife very depressing. I cannot imagine grieving as one who has no hope in life beyond this life. When my 47-year old dad died, he was there one moment, and only his body remained the next. His soul went somewhere. I do not believe that our souls are extinguished at the moment of death. I am absolutely convinced that this is not all there is to life.
On a somewhat related note, can I just mention how odd it is that my husband is now the same age my dad was when he died? My dad will never be older than 47 and soon I will be older than my dad. Very strange.
And abruptly, that’s it for now.