She passed into the big fishbowl in the sky on Saturday night, after a day filled with swimming upside down due to her bloated, buoyant belly.
Will and I wrapped her in a paper towel, placed it into a Ziploc, which was then put into a small box, wrapped in a letter from Will, tied with pipe cleaners and secured with a painted Fiori macaroni. Royal blue in color.
We buried her under a crab apple tree, and said a short prayer. I tried to explain that although her body would remain in the earth, her spirit was now in Heaven. I just know that he is secretly planning an exhumation the first chance he gets. I plan on beating him to the punch.
Four year olds will ask pretty revealing questions. And, clearly, I struggled with the explanation of omnipotence and the metaphysical since Will asked how God could live in the clouds if he had no plates and cups. He also later went on to tell me that God had given me bad breath. Thanks, God.