I Need Dream Analysis Therapy

Two nights ago, I dreamed my husband died.

Only, it wasn’t Husband, whom I’m currently married to – it was my cousin’s husband, John. Only he didn’t look like John, he looked like someone else. Someone I’ve never met or recognized.

At the funeral, I ran into someone from high school. Back in July, I had my 20th high school reunion. I ran into friends I hadn’t seen in 20 years, and one of these friends was Marcy. Marcy was at my dream funeral-for-my-husband-who-was-not-my-husband-and-who-was-John-only-he-wasn’t-John. At the dream funeral, Marcy was looking through the prayer cards that had pictures of the deceased. Only these prayer cards were like wallet-sized professional pictures of John-who-wasn’t-John, and John’s family-who-wasn’t-my family. Several different versions of prayer cards, in full color and a glossy finish. I sat next to Marcy with a box of these prayer cards (apparently, I had the task to refill the prayer cards in these little business card holder things). I told her that the dead man was my husband; she was concerned. I knew her concern was because the real-life Marcy knows my husband is Husband, not John and she was worried Husband was dead, even though she was looking at the glossy family pictures of John at his funeral. I told her, don’t worry, Husband wasn’t dead and then I went about refilling the prayer cards in the business card holders.

I remember having the feelings that I was so happy it wasn’t Husband in the casket and now that John was dead, Husband and I could be together. In this dream, the last 20 years of my life didn’t happen. The feelings I had were unusual – I was not sad to be a widow, or to say goodbye to the man I called my husband. I was only sad that John was dead because his children would miss him – and the children were his current, real-life children, and not Daughter.

When I woke up and remembered this dream, all I could think was: What the hell was I doing being married to him? (And let the record reflect that I am in no way attracted to John, nor am I envious of my cousin’s life with John.) I certainly can’t figure this one out on my own.

Freddie Fishsticks, R.I.P.

Daughter's goldfish died, y'all. And while this isn't the most horrible thing to happen, for Daughter, it was a tough day. So I thought I would give you the bio and let you mourn along with our family. Well, not really the entire family, as Husband though all the hullaballu over a fish was stupid, but I look at is as a valuable life lesson to teach a 6 year-old about death -- without the death having to be an actual person -- someone that would be a heartbreak to lose.

His name was Freddie Fishsticks, which I am assuming you already picked up on from the title of the post. But in case you didn't, there you go. I used to joke about his name, because if you say it with our Italian last name, it sounds like an old time Mobster name. Right?

We bought him for 12 cents back in May. He was about an inch long. He was about 3 inches when he died. He swam. He ate a lot. He pooped a lot. That was about it.

He stopped eating last Sunday, so I knew his death was imminent -- and while I tried to prepare Daughter for the inevitable...she still cried her heart out when his death was confirmed. We said a prayer for him to go to fish heaven, or wherever it is that dead fish go -- and then we flushed him.

I felt really bad for Daughter, because this is the first time death has been so personal for her. And yes, like Husband, I understand it is a very small death when put in perspective. But I have always had a soft spot for all animals, and I even felt sad when Freddie died. After all, I was the one who ended up having to feed him and clean his bowl, when the novelty of it all wore off for Daughter.

Daughter and I have had several conversations about death. I never tried to really sugar-coat it for her, especially when the question came up about me dying. Or Husband dying. Or Nana, or Papa, or even her. I try to explain to her that death is part of life -- all living things are going to die eventually someday. Every tree, every flower, every bird...and yes, every person on the face of this earth is going to die. Hopefully, it happens when we are all very, very old, and that way we can say we enjoyed our lives. But sometimes, like Freddie, it happens 9 months after meeting each other and getting to know one another.

When we said goodbye to Freddie, we had a good cry. Daughter cried because her fish died. I cried because she had to experience death and the pain that goes with it. She told me her heart was heavy and it hurt. I know that feeling. I've cried many times for pets, friends and family that have all passed away. I know that one thing that always made me feel better was a strong hug and knowing that I still had people here to experience life with -- and so that's what I did. I hugged her hard, told her that death is part of life, and that I loved her.

One thing I am thankful for is that I have a child who is sensitive enough to care when her fish dies. That goes to show she has a soft and fragile heart that is capable of loving even a goldfish. I am also thankful that I was here to help her through it (I leave to take the Bar tomorrow morning).

So goodbye to you, Freddie. As I mentioned in my prayer, I hope you are in fish heaven, or wherever it is that the spirit of fish go when they die. You were a decent first pet for my then 5-year-old. We had some good times and a few laughs -- remember that time your poop was about 4 inches long? Daughter got a kick out of that (she loves bathroom humor -- she must get it from me). Rest in peace, little fish. Rest in peace. (And I am sorry for flushing you, but considering the ground is hard as a rock outside, I couldn't give you a proper burial. I am sure you have already forgiven me.)