I’ve been having nightmares this week. They are dreams of loss. In one, I lost my hiking shoes and was barefoot. I kept walking up and down the street, going to gas stations looking for them. In another, I had committed some type of crime and worried about the authorities closing in on me, knowing that I would soon lose my freedom.
It dawned on me that I am having these dream of loss due to the emotional week I’ve experienced.
Last week, my boyfriend Tim’s 13-year-old dog died. His name was Pete. He was a Husky, Shepherd mix and was the sweetest dog ever.
His death saddened me greatly and the affect it had on my boyfriend, saddened me more. We cried as we thought about how Pete died alone. We blamed ourselves for not being there. I felt so helpless and angry because I had no control over the situation. I wanted to know the reason why he died, but he was already buried by the time I got Tim’s text informing me that “Pete passed away.” I didn’t get to see him again or pet his white, plush fur.
Later that night, I looked at all the photos of Pete and the things we did with him. The memories made me smile. I made a photo album for my boyfriend and bought him a sympathy card, both of which he seemed to appreciate.
Over the weekend, I mentioned something that reminded me of Pete and my boyfriend said he was not going to dwell on the fact that he died because there was nothing he could do. I felt horrible, as if I had reminded him of his pain.
The truth was I didn’t know how to act after Pete’s death. I felt if I didn’t talk about him, Tim might have thought I didn’t care. I told him so.
Then, as I interviewed retiring deputy chief Pete Fisher at his home Friday, he got a phone call with the news his uncle died. I had never been in the presence of someone getting news of a death before. As Pete told his daughter and aunt and the three cried and hugged, I didn’t know what to do. I asked if I should come back later. Pete said no. He began telling me stories about his uncle and I hoped that made him feel better. I offered my condolences.
Saturday night was Fisher’s retirement party and there I interviewed officer Tara Beeney, who is battling brain cancer. As she told me the statistics and the fact that she may only have a short time left in this world, I couldn’t begin to comprehend what she must be going through. Again, I felt helpless and sad. Even though I don’t know Tara personally, I thought about her later that evening and said a prayer for her.
All of these things have reminded me about how unpredictable life is and how volatile we are. Death, or the thought of it, for me, does not bring a sense of security. It frightens me.
But, Monday night I received a ray of sunshine in my gray week of sadness. My cousin called and told me in a groggy, scratchy voice that she gave birth to a baby boy. An emergency C-section had to be performed due to the baby’s heart rate slowing down, but both are doing fine now.
After I told my cousin to get some rest, I thought about the ironic timing of her phone call, which made me think about the cycle of life. Tonight’s dream should be sweeter.
East Peoria, Ill. —
