Bobby Bubble the goldfish is dead... or experiencing your first grief at the age of 3.

Today was a difficult day for my Sam. My 3-year-old son has experienced his first bereavement, that of his favourite goldfish, Bobby Bubble.

I didn't really want to lie to my son. He's young, of course, but he's very talkative and bright. So I thought I might as well explain it to him.

I didn't want to trivialise the death of his favourite goldfish either. Even though, to be honest, I'm fed up with cleaning the aquarium, for him it was his friend. He fed it and waved to it often.

But how do you explain death to such a young child? You just want to spare them, to put off the fateful moment when you have to confront the subject with them. You just want to magically make a new goldfish appear in the aquarium. Or to tell him that the fish is sleeping on its back...

Bobby Bubble had already been having problems with his buoyancy for 3 days. Sometimes on his back, sometimes at the bottom of the aquarium, I could see he was on his last few miles. When we returned from a beautiful mother-son day, we found him at the bottom of the aquarium, inert.

Should we bury him, flush him down the toilet or put him in the river?

So I explained to my Sam that Bobby was dead. That's all. And that we had to get him out of the aquarium. I suggested the toilet, but this idea was rejected out of hand. "It's disgusting, he'll be all dirty" was my little man's reply.

Choice no. 2: go and throw it in the river so that it finds the bigger fish (we live very close to the municipal quay). "NO mum! Much too dangerous for him! Right, then.

So, let's bury him at the bottom of the yard, in a little bag filled with water. "OK, Mum, that way he'll be close by."

Once buried and the little burial plot put in place, the questions came; "'Mum, can we now go and dig him up and put him back in the aquarium?"

No, my love. He's dead forever.

At home, after turning the subject over several times and reading a lot about reincarnation, we believe that our energy leaves the body, but will manifest itself later in another body envelope. So I tried to explain the whole thing to my 3-year-old son, who had just lost his favourite goldfish. (There's still a black fish, but he's not as cool as Bobby Bubble).

At first, Sam kept hoping to go and dig up Bobby... then all of a sudden, it became obvious. He said words to me that shook me to my core as a mum, as I explained to him that Bobby had left his body here, but that his energy was going to come back in a new fish... maybe even a shark or a dolphin.

He simply said to me, "No Mum, I don't like it, I don't want to, it's all mixed up, my energies are all mixed up. I've lost my friend."

Then he started to cry. And so did I.

We cried very hard together for Bobby Bubble, the goldfish. He realised that his fish would never come back. Me realising that he would have to go through other, much more difficult griefs.

The wish

It was then that something lit up in his mind and he took me by surprise.

He said simply, "Mum, we're going to take a little rock and make a wish on the little rock." I have no idea where he got that from. Maybe it's one of the stories I tell him about magic stones and meditation before bedtime.

He gave me a small pebble and grasped one between his pretty little fingers. Then I heard him whisper, "I want a new goldfish and I want our fish back in the aquarium".

I wished for the same thing and explained to him that sometimes wishes take a while to come true. Of course, on Thursday, 2 days from now, when he'll be at Grandma and Grandpa's, I'll be picking up a new Bobby Bubble.

In the end, I think I did the right thing.

At first, he didn't want to talk about it with Dad. Even during the crying fit, Dad wasn't allowed to know where the pain was coming from. Then slowly, after accepting and making his wish, he explained everything to Dad.

Children are magical. They're full of resilience, emotion and the present moment.

I wanted to share this very special and personal moment with you simply to inspire us a little and make us realise just how relative everything is.

Be magic my beautiful witches.

xx

Elysabel