The passing

My fish died. Karch died.

I know you can't really see him very well in that picture, but he's there. Look by the leaf. That's him.

I found him the other night, eyes bulging, fins flipping. I fished him out of his tank and flushed him. As he went down the drain, I burst into tears. Yes. I cried over the death of my fish.

He wasn't even a nice fish. Sometimes he was downright mean. He battled every fish I ever put in that tank with him. He even survived a weekend when Shrek went rogue and started cannibalizing two other fish in the tank. Corky (he was mildly deformed with a hole in his fin) died from his injuries. Tigger (because he was stripped) was found completely without fins and helpless. He also met a watery grave that night. But Karch, he was a fighter. With only minor injuries, he lived.

After that night, I didn't put anymore fish in the tank. Karch began his life as a bachelor.

That little fish had gumption. He was feisty. I think that's why I liked him. He was always smaller than all the other fish that came and went from the tank, but no one ever pushed him around. He really was the fish that wouldn't die. He was with me for almost 2 years. That's a long time for a little tiger barb to stick around.

When I found him and finally flushed him, like I said, I cried. Not just a single tear on my face either. Big, sorrowful crocodile tears poured from my eyes. That stupid little fish left me. After everything we'd been through. I was so sad. They were the kind of tears that wouldn't stop. For some reason, flushing that fish made me feel so helpless and small.

I think that little fish represented a lot of things in my life. Growing older, growing up, moving on, moving forward. And although I'm positive the tears were a product of a million other things all lumped together, losing Karch was the last straw.

I hope you rest in peace, Karch. You were a good fish. You taught me many things, and if nothing else, you made me realize a lot of things about myself.