Trying to teach my Mother how to use a computer is hard work. The simple task of showing her how ebay works became a chore rather then time-consuming inconvenience which lead to me doubting our relation completely. My mother thought a mouse was that creature I had in a cage for several years in my “Student Part one” years.
We arrived at the stage where I was getting frustrated at explaining everything to her because I felt like I was experiencing a mundane ground-hog day. “I just don’t understand.” She pleaded with my humane side looking just as frustrated as me. “It’s simple when you know how.” I sang. After several hours of IT help I prayed for the clock to draw to a late hour so I could make my excuses and go home. Instead we heard Joshua mumbling “It’s okay, you’ll be alright.”.
I called Josh into the room. I was concerned (yes, that sibling love thing exists). “Yeah?” Josh spoke whilst walking in, water in his eyes and sleeves rolled up.
“Who’re you… why are you crying.”
“I’m not.” He sniffles and his eyes gathering even more water.
“What’s up, baby?” He sniffs again before opening his mouth and letting three tears roll down his cheeks.
“It’s Haku. He got…got…got caught in the filter again!!” (Haku is one of the four Gold fish Joshua has. Yes, he is crying about a fish. It took me a moment to realise too.)
“Oh, is he alright?” This is a stupid question and I regret it as soon as I speak because he then puts her hands to his eyes and muffles in what I can only describe as a foreign underwater mourning song.
“Umm. Is he dead?”
“mmearly.” His hands still covering his face, he is crying. He’s trying to be ninja about it all but you can hear his small whimpers in-between speaking.
“Oh, let me see him.”
“Mokay.” I have now volunteered myself to the responsibility of his death. By “having a look” I am then becoming the adult whom should be able to save the Fish.
We walk out the living room to the kitchen, the palm of my hand firmly on Joshua’s back, escorting and comforting him whilst we walk to the Kitchen. He is really upset. I look at Haku and he’s limp in his tail, clearly a victim of the pump. He’s fish & chips for sure, ten days maximum.
“How did he escape the pump?” I ask prompting Joshua to remove his hands from his face. He shows me his ruby eyes. They pull at my heartstrings.
“I rescued him again. He got caught the other week and I had to save him then but he was okay. He doesn’t look okay now, he’s going to die, Shola”
Shit, I didn’t plan on explaining Death to anyone under twelve years old, it’s like telling them all their happy fictional holiday characters are alcoholics and you shouldn’t really take sweets or chocolates off them. I wasn’t ready to murder St. Nicolas yet. Just then in the thick midst of my internal meltdown our Mother walks in the Kitchen. She surely would have the answer to this. She swanned in and took Joshua’s hand and walked in the sitting room, him still upset. Five minutes later he came out less upset.
I would of placed my money on a “everything will be okay in the morning” line, and sure enough a similar younger fish will be in the tank before he returns from school.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m sad but it’s okay to be sad. Mom says everything dies.”
“Oh right.” I wasn’t expecting that, I was waiting for some cock-and-bull story of how he isn’t dying just sleeping. “So, what you going to do?”
“All we can do is make Haku more comfortable. Mom said if someone has had a good life then dying isn’t something to be sad about. As long as we showed we loved them. Oh and to make their last time alive comfy.”
“Wow, that’s very mature of you.”
“Not really, I’m big y’know.”
I was speechless. When he left me he was a skinny wreck of a boy about to boil over with tears and five minutes with my Mom and he was a little man. It’s like she has just strolled into his world, murdered the Easter Bunny, is roasting him in the oven and Joshua is watching him cook slowly. That’s the only way how to describe how I felt.
I walked back into the living room looking at her amazed. “How?”
“What?” she said smug. She knew full well what.
“That, the whole death thing with the bloody fish!”
“Oh that. Well it’s simple when you know how.”
“Fish; they are every Mother’s scapegoat to explaining death.”
I then remembered we bought Joshua eleven fish about four years ago when he was six years old. There was a big thing about them being “Joshua’s Fish” and I didn’t understand at the time but it was drilled in “They’re Joshua’s responsibility, not family fish.” A lot of them died but when he was significantly younger, this is the first fish to die in about two years. Haku is the lucky one who has taught Joshua about Death and consequently his death hasn’t been vain, unfortunately he won’t be “going on holiday” like the other predecessors did.
“Did you explain that’s what happened to the other?”
“No Shola, they’re with Nemo.”
Fish are a tool to explain death. My mother has premeditated this death which made her cool and calculated. I then had no doubt we were related, I.C.T knowledge or not.
5 February, 07:17
That’s pretty cool how your Mom used the fish to explain death to your little brother. Very smart. I may have to try some tactics like this in the future with my little ones.
5 February, 15:55
Awww. He sounds so cute. I know it’s a motherly thing because a lot of times when my son is upset nothing soothes/relieves him more than when I’m talking to him.
5 February, 17:32
Awww! That is such an adorable story! That’s such a difficult thing to talk to a child about, especially when even the grown-ups don’t understand death. (I know I don’t yet…) But that was really cool of your mom. I’ve tried to teach a friend of mine who is a little older about computers and she was terrified of the thing… scared one button would make it explode or something. I think it’s intimidating to people who didn’t grow up typing in DOS commands… wow those were the days. Anyway, stay patient like you have been. She’ll get there. :)
6 February, 22:56
That’s really sweet. :) It’s always hard to explain death to little ones, and sometimes as they grow up they find a little bit about it on their own, or through some form of independence they understand.
Joshua is so cute. :’)
I always have trouble explaining things to my mum when it comes to computers. Eep. She wants to learn but at the same time she just wants to do what she has to do, so I end up doing it. XP
7 February, 03:32
Awww! I was 15 when my fish died. I was crying too. Unlike your little brother, I knew about death.
He seemed so heart broken in the beginning. Good thing your mom could shed some light to make him feel better. I have no clue how I would explain death to my daughter. Good thing I have a few years before that happen.
7 February, 06:09
Hehehehehehehe
its toooo hard to thought ur elder’s ,same situation is here really!!!
lol
8 February, 09:56
Awww!! I remember when I was young, probably middle school, my little cousin killed my first pet fish. He was trying to help feed the fish but poured way too much food in the fish tank. It completely covered my fish. When I went into the room I never noticed because all of the food looked like rocks or something. When I did finally notice, I was so upset. We dug a grave and had him buried. That was my first experience with death
10 February, 19:38
They’re with Nemo. Haha, awww. This post is so sweet and I really enjoyed reading it. It reminded me of talks I’ve had with my little sister, too. My first experiences with death were with pets, too. Hampsters and frogs and fish and rabbits. I think that’s how it usually is with children.
11 February, 22:58
Such a clever blog. I’m lucky that mom works with IT so we get on without having to explain to each other. But that is a sweet story. Your mom was very mature about explaining death. My sister and I somehow didn’t need fish or anything to explain death. Death (as well as sex) we learnt independently somehow.