Personal Narrative

Jamie Solomon

Professor Miller

English 1000

January 26, 2011

Fear of Death

            “Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in,” Alan Alda. Okay, well that sounds boring. Who care’s about assumptions? Or even fear itself? I can assume whatever I want, and I will be fine. Yeah, well not really. When we don’t fully understand a situation, we make assumptions. It is a natural reaction to immediately fill in any unknown information by creating our own story. We do this because we want to make sense of situations. This isn’t always good. The problem with making assumptions is that false information can cause all kinds of complications, heightened emotions, anxiety, and so on.

            Now here’s a bigger problem. Fear and death, yeah, these guys don’t mix too well with making assumptions. When one comes in contact with the other, the situation just isn’t too pretty. Unfortunately, I had to realize this on my own, at the young age of thirteen. It was a beautiful night with my best friend Haley, when suddenly, I got the phone call of death.

“I don't want another pretty face, I don't want just anyone to hold, I don't want my love to go to waste, I want you and your beautiful soul,” my new ringtone by Jesse McCartney suddenly sounds. Number one hit of the week. Me and Haley scream so loud with pure bliss, we feel the alley of houses shake in the midst of darkness. After the quickest thirty seconds of our life, the song stops. “That’s weird,” we think. Before we know it, we hear the song again, even more excited than the first time. We jump so high in the air on the neighbor’s long driveway, as if we are trying to reach for the stars. Jumping and jumping, so happy, like a kid arriving to a candy store for his very first time. “I know that you, are something special, to you I’d be always faithful…” and then it stops, again. After jumping and screaming like little children for a couple of minutes, I finally walk up to my phone and see that I have four missed calls, one after the other. My mom called me four consecutive times, annoying. Who would want to hear from their parents at such a time where fun is in the air? Haley and I were having a blast, I didn’t just want to stop to call my mom back. As I walk back over, Haley asks me who calls. I tell her just my annoying mom, calling me over and over again, no big deal. The moment I am about to put my phone down again, another call. I think to myself, “Okay now this is a little weird, calling me for the fifth time now. What could this woman possibly want?” I finally give in, like a middle school kid being pressured to smoke for their first time. As bad as they know they really don’t want to, they finally do. And that’s why I did. I gave in, finally answered.

            “Uh, hello? What do you want mom?” The usual way I pick up my phone when one of my parents call me, annoyed. Just going to be another one of those pointless conversations, I think to myself. Suddenly I hear screams, yells, cries. My heart suddenly skips a beat. I know my mom is very emotional, but this time things seem a little off. Haley looks at me like my moms a psycho, hearing her loud voices, not understanding how I am holding the phone up to my ear. It is so loud, as if being in the front row of a rock concert, about to enjoy your last moments of hearing. Well anyways, my mom screams, “Jamie, its Arthur.” I freeze. Arthur is my little toy poodle, about seven pounds, hair resembles a whole bunch of curly fries, so cute. He’s like my little brother, that I always wish I had, but I say this because I have had him since the age of five, and now I am thirteen. I’m thinking to myself, ok, Arthur, well, what about him? Before the words could roll off my tongue, which I feel is turning numb at this point, she tells me that he got attacked by another dog. Out of the clear blue, without even realizing it, I feel tears rush down my face. Haley probably feels like she’s watching the Niagara Falls or something, it is this intense. I have one person on the phone going crazy, and Haley standing in front of me who thinks I am crazy. That’s beside the point. So now I am in panic mode. Right off the bat, I assume he’s dead. The black sky with the once beautiful, flashing, yellow stars starts to change. It’s so dark now. All I see is black everywhere. This cant be happening to me. Why me! My dog is my everything, my baby. I start to scream, “No, are you kidding me! What happened! Where is he? How did this happen?” I spit out every question imaginable, not even realizing what I was saying. Haley grew into panic, and rushed inside her house to get her family. She didn’t know what was going on, but picked up that something wasn’t right. “My dog is dead! Oh my gosh! My little Arthur is dead!” I begin to hit the ground, laying on the driveway like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. I don’t even care what anyone thinks at this point. I just want to lay, and cry, for goodness sake, give me a box of chocolate or something so I can eat my pain away while I’m at it. My body is filled with anxiety. It went from being at the base of a mountain, and shot sky high to the top of Mt. Everest. I start shaking, and feel so cold. My insides are torn up, all over the place, like the tornado that so happened to hit my room last week. I feel so lost, like an unsolvable maze.

            Forgetting my mom is on the phone, she continues, “Jamie, honey, he’s not dead sweetheart. He is in the hospital, but we are going to get him now. We will be there soon to come and pick you up.” I feel a little lighter after hearing that. The mere mention of death scares me and puts me into a deep panic, especially when it’s something so close and significant to me.

After so many tears, I feel like I am floating on a pond. The driveway is drenched, like a flood just passed. Haley and her family come rushing towards me to see what is the matter. I tell them about Arthur getting attacked, and they all gasp. They have three dogs who they treasure so much, so they knew this butterfly in your stomach kind of feeling that I am going through.

Being there was perfect. They were all hugging and kissing me. I felt so loved, I almost forgot what was the matter. How could I not enjoy this moment? I feel like a rock star, everyone reaching out for me, and lights flashing at me. I see a vision of me being on stage, crowd going crazy, and spotlight directly on me. After a couple moments of glory, I realize the lights are the headlights from my parents’ car.  Before I can get on my feet, my mom sprints towards me. I feel like I should move out of the way or something before I get tackled at the forty-yard line.

            She wraps her warm arms around me, and I feel so safe. We both cry on each others shoulder, which is so tense at this point. I wrap my arms so tightly around her, never wanting to let go. She walks me to the car to see Arthur. I find myself shaking again, and I feel so light headed. I am so hesitant to see him because I would hate to see the hurt in his eyes. This sickening thought kills me inside.

            We arrive to the car and my mom opens the door. I see my dog, and it’s bad, but I am so lucky to know that he is still alive, and was so strong through this whole traumatic experience. Seeing him be so strong helps lighten my mood, and I sit and think to myself.

            “If you don’t understand something, it is better for you to ask and be clear, instead of making an assumption.  The day you stop making assumptions you will communicate cleanly and clearly, free of emotional poison.  Without making assumptions your word becomes impeccable.” The moment I got in the car, and realized how I over reacted, I immediately played this quote by author Don Miguel Ruiz in my head. I came to the conclusion that I didn’t even pay attention to what my mom was saying on the phone, and assumed my dog passed away. I put myself through such unnecessary emotional trauma.

            This whole experience taught me a lot. I now know that when something happens, good or bad, I make sure to ask questions, and not assume. Assuming leads me down this dark, dark hole, and I just keep digging deeper and deeper, creating so much emotional stress for myself. Life is all about making choices. I can easily choose to go down the wrong path and create a living hell for myself, but I can easily take the other route as well and find peace, love and happiness. The second choice sounds good to me. And after experiencing all of this, I now know, “If it is to be, it is up to me!”