XLI : Seemingly Sudden

It's been a few days, maybe three or four, that I have seen my fish, a feeder fish goldfish I got for my 18th birthday, 小麻煩, strangely staying in the corner of its tank where the heater is. The first time I saw it there, I thought it had died, but when I poked at the fake plants it was hiding in, it began swimming around so I could feed it and watch it eat. I forgot to feed it yesterday, but I've missed a day before. When I went to see it this morning, it looked like this:



Bent over uncomfortably. I thought it just wanted to be near the heater though when I stuck my finger into the water to check on the temperature, it felt warm. I thought, it'll start swimming around (which I noticed it did less of when the dog my sister was dog-sitting last week was around) soon enough. Then I will feed it. But after I ate lunch and checked on it again, it wasn't breathing anymore. It's gills weren't moving up and down. I probably saw it's last breaths that first time I checked up on it today. Somehow, I'm not as saddened as when my Fishy died last year due to the cold winter. But a loss is a loss and my heart does feel just a bit affected. When I scooped it out of its corner, its body was still so soft, not yet stiff like my first fish's was. I hope it's okay that I just laid it among the weeds in the backyard where I have buried two other fish from before. Back then, there weren't any plants growing there so I buried them under the dry soil. Although Fishy was thrown away (because I wasn't home), I hope 小麻煩 will be fine with being among those flowery weeds. They do make the backyard look lively though.

And during this break, I have tried to keep my bamboo alive. I hope it stays alive. It's stalk may be squishy and browned, but it's still got a green stem and green leaves still sprout from the top.

When I think about how long I have taken care of these lives, I still think that their deaths or their closeness to death are too sudden, even though I'm sure they have been giving me a sign for quite a few days before. I don't seem to notice their growth until someone points it out or I see photos I have kept from years before. It's like that for people, too, especially parents, I guess. To nurture something and give it what it needs to survive (and more sometimes), to see it grow and continue living, it all seems timeless; but when it falls sick, nears its death, only then do we realize how limited its time really is. And even if we do know that time always runs out for living things, is there really a need to find an escape from the feeling of this seemingly sudden end? Either by believing that time continues on after this world or by believing that people's memories keep that time everlasting. Or something else.