Monday, 13 August 2007

In Memory of The Brave

On 13/08/2007 morning, not long after I woke up at 8:30am, Girlie, the female fighting fish, went away to play. She is the first fighter I've watched breathe until the very end. I watched her gasp her last breath, then fell still. I thought I saw her struggling, and I told her that if she felt that she wanted to go, then go. If she wanted to live on, the fight on.

I finally realised that fighters are true to their name sake: they fight to the end.

I think we both knew that Girlie didn't want to fight any more.

She went away at her most beautiful.

I buried her in a special place: the first teapot that I've bought in Australia; the teapot has been with me for 5 years. I broke the spout yesterday night. In retrospect, I think it was a sign that it was time for Girlie to go. I planted some mint in that teapot.

Girlie had been unwell for some time now. She grew better, but at the same time that I began my first emotional ordeal, she seemed to fade away, yet fought to linger on.

I didn't cry when I watched her go. That was a first for the emotional me.

To Girlie: you've been great. This is for you.


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