In memory of Lance

Man, these "memoriam" posts are getting me down.

When we got home from K's soccer game yesterday, I noticed that our active, bright blue, curiously-large betta fish was no longer active nor bright blue. In fact, he had turned a strange shade of brown and was floating upside down on the bottom of his bowl. (For the record, everyone, YES I had fed him this morning, and YES he was swimming around at that time.)

Lance was 20 months old, which I understand is old for a betta. He'd been a good little fish, playing up his cuteness by darting to and fro around his fishbowl, and often cheering us up by making cute little fishy-faces whenever we were blue. Okay, he wasn't actually discriminating as to when he'd make those faces. But if you were ever depressed, you could go over to the bowl and count on him making one at you.

Lance survived the premature death of his wife, Fins, whom I accidentally overfed last year when we left town for a couple of days. He also survived several trips back and forth between Houston and Kyle, and had settled into his new home here with nary a complaint.

The kids are crushed. After the funeral service (flush flush!), I found R hiding behind his bunkbed, wailing loudly. P was in her closet, crying softly. K hid in my closet for a long time, and when he finally emerged, his eyes were red and swollen. Heck, even I teared up, although I'm not sure if my sadness was from Lance's death or from the kids' despair.

Lord, I can't even imagine what it would have been like if we'd lost a dog (which we don't have, but the kids have been BEGGING for). The kids don't realize it yet, but their reaction to the fish's passing has dealt them a setback in the puppy department. I am just not sure how much their little hearts can take.

I'm not sure how much *my* heart can take, either.

Farewell, dear Lance. Enjoy your swim in the big ocean in the sky. And make some fishy faces at God from time to time - his job is a hard one, and he, too, could use some cheering up sometimes.