Alan hated birthdays. He saw each one as being one step closer to being in the grave. He would howl and throw a tantrum if his parents tried to throw a party or get a cake or even mentioned it was his birthday.
It all went back to when he was four years old. A well meaning uncle tried to teach him the meaning of life through death. His goldfish Sam had died and little Alan didn't understand what had happened, why his fish wasn't swimming around anymore. His uncle told him, trying to spare his feelings, that fish only live a very short time and his last birthday was up. Alan cried and cried and went to bed crying.
The next morning his parents approached him tentatively, but he seemed ok, like the normal little four year old he basically was. But months later, when they tried to plan out his birthday, he threw such a fit that they dropped it and threw him a surprise party.
So they got all his friends together, decorated the house while he was away and got ready. When he appeared at the door and everyone shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" He screeched and burst into tears before running out the door and into the street, right into the path of a car. The car squealed and swerved and just barely managed to avoid hitting Alan. His parents rushed out and tried to hug him but they were wearing party hats and he squirmed and clawed and bit until they let go.
The damage to the car was thankfully negligible but that was the end of the birthday parties. Alan was now eight and had developed a full on phobia. He didn't go to other children's birthdays and so had a hard time making and keeping friends. He had been to a psychologist and had been making progress but still couldn't safely say they were out of the woods.
Doctor Dennings, while having little difficulty discerning how he had developed the problem had yet to solve why. He had tried letting Alan air out his concerns, tried to allay his fears. Nothing.
Finally, Dennings had an idea. He brought in the parents to ask what had happened to the goldfish after it had died. The father, somewhat embarrassed, replied that they had just flushed him down the toilet.
"I see," said the doctor.
Dennings then told them Alan hadn't ever gotten any closure and had come to associate death and birthdays as one and the same, a kind of torturous existential limbo. He needed to say goodbye to his fish if he ever wanted to overcome his phobia.
His parents were anxious and eager to try anything, so the next day they held a small memorial in the backyard. Dad took a small stone and carved Sam's name into it. Mom gave a eulogy, saying what a good fish Sam had been and how she missed him. Then they asked Alan if he would like to say something.
He didn't say a word, although a muffled sobbing was emanating from him. Then finally he said simply "You were my best friend and I miss you. Goodbye," before running into the house.
He didn't come out of his room until the next day for breakfast. He looked tired and a little sad, but otherwise ok. He didn't say anything much until he finished eating his cereal and said he was glad he got to say goodbye. His parents smiled and hugged him and told him they could get a new fish if he wanted. He told them yes and that was the last time Alan had birthday troubles ever again.
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