Choosing Which Memories You Keep
I had to put down our glo betta fish, Macauley, Monday night. Doug and I found him in an abandoned house two years ago, floating around in a dirty little aquarium. Doug was listing the house and was so busy taking pictures that he didn't even notice the aquarium sitting on the kitchen counter. I did, looked in, and saw the sweet little neon yellow guy with big black eyes staring back up at me. I don't know how long he'd been there. The power to the home was shut off. The temperature in March had dipped into the 40s the past few nights. I picked up the aquarium, took him with me, and told Doug, "We have a new pet." Doug and I stopped at a pet store and bought him a new glow-in-the-dark aquarium, plants, and food. We named him "Macauley" because we found him "home alone."
I had two or three bettas in the past, so I had a little knowledge about caring for them. He was the happiest little betta for the next two years. He'd swim to greet me and wait for me to drop the flakes or blood worms into his tank. I later added a little glow-in-the-dark skull for him to hide in and then a mini Star Wars AT-AT, which he loved. I changed his water once a month, and all was good.
In November, he started to decline. I read everything I could on how to take care of a sick betta, trying five medications, hoping whatever he had would go away. He continued to get worse. I'd change the water, and he'd rebound, and then a few days later, he was sulking again. I kept hoping he'd rebound, but he wasn't improving, so I decided the most humane thing to do was put him down.
Even though he was part of my life for less than two years, I feel sad, and even though I haven't talked about this much, I could tell my body was grieving. I keep looking at his tank (now emptied), hoping to see him swim around. I'm grateful I have a few hours back in my month not having to mind a tank; I'm still sad.
I realized that I was focusing on his death and decided to take the advice I give my clients when they've experienced a loss. I ask my clients, "How do you think your loved one wants to be remembered?" "Would you rather remember them when they were living and happy or dying and sad?" I choose to remember Macauley when he was happy and living. I chose to remember him when I saw him for the first time, and he looked up at me with those big black eyes. I choose to remember putting him in his new tank for the first time and hitting the lights so he glowed in the dark. I choose to remember the happiness I felt getting him the Star Wars AT-AT hideaway and him peeking out wondering if I had food for him. I will choose these happy memories and practice them because out of the 22 months we had together, 20 were wonderful. I don't want those last two months to cloud my happiness about this whole experience.
I'll write down my happy memories of Macauley in my happy journal to practice them. Happiness is not necessarily something that you stumble into or magically find you. It's a choice, like anything else you do, whether playing a sport, mastering an artistic endeavor, or engaging in a skill you need for work. Choose the skill you want to improve and then practice to improve. If you want to be great at basketball, consciously practice dribbling and shooting hoops to get better. If you want to be happy, choose happiness and consciously practice happy thoughts like any other skill. The more you practice, the better you get, and the more happiness you will experience.
