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The Loss of a Loved One

And His Beloved Pear Tree

By Eliza VargasPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
The Loss of a Loved One
Photo by Gilly Stewart on Unsplash

I remember one night, I was running in a dream. I’m not sure how I knew it was a dream but somehow I just knew. Or at least I had desperately hoped it was. I was running down a white hall as fast as I could. Having this sense of panic in this pit of my stomach, my feet were barely able to keep up with my legs and how fast they were moving.

I had gotten a call that my dad was in the hospital and it wasn’t looking good. He had been sick for a few days, worse for wear compared to normal, but nothing too concerning according to his doctor.

What happened? Will he be okay when I get there? God, please don’t let him… No! Don’t even go there. He won’t...he can’t -

I see the rest of my family outside of a door. I don’t stop running, I don’t even slow down. My inlaws try to hold me back from entering the room but they are unsuccessful. Before they can grab me I catch a glimpse in the room through a large window.

My body completely gives way underneath me. I drop to my knees, the bone hitting hard on the cold tile floor. My elbows and hands follow suit as I just barely make it through the door. They were pulling a white sheet over my dad’s body. You know like those dreaded moments when they do it to someone who has died in a movie. Just like that. I begin to scream and cry as I feel hands and arms grab me from behind. The sound of my own screams sound muffled as everything drowns out around me. I break free from my family and throw my phone at the wall, the glass shattering everywhere. At that point my body wasn’t mine anymore, I had no control. Security comes in an effort to calm me down but it’s too late. The damage has been done.

I resumed running but now making my way out of the hospital. Even faster than before, even though that seems impossible. My heart was pounding, almost to the point of giving out. But somehow I just keep running. And then I woke up.

I’ve had this dream a few times, and it would always end up the same way. My fears in real life have been invading my dreams and tormenting me in my sleep. I’ve had family that have been sick for what seems like my whole life. But with my dad, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him sick, definitely not to this extent. There once was a time where I was probably closest with my dad than any other person. However, over the years, sadly times have changed.

Unfortunately one day my fears came to fruition. About a week later my father passed in the hospital due to complications from a condition that he had that for too long went untreated. When he was first admitted I was so angry with him for denying his health issues and not being fully honest with his doctors. Not that all just seemed to go to waste. Now I am just angry with myself and the world around me. Feeling so broken inside all I could think to myself was “Why?”

On the day of the funeral, my dad didn’t have any insurance and for those he left behind, we couldn’t get enough money together to really give him a proper funeral. So we decided to bury him by the old pear tree in my grandparents' backyard. Although it looked as we felt this tree always meant a lot to my dad. It was the same tree he planted with his father as a boy. He climbed that tree, picked pears from it on hot summer days playing outside. He even asked my mother to marry him under that tree and took a picture of the two of us just days after I was born. It’s almost as if the tree lived his life with him, so it only seemed right that they pass to the next life together too.

It’s been five years now since my father passed. And I visit that tree every chance I get just hoping to get a glimpse of those moments my dad shared with that tree. Even though we have since planted a new tree there now I still think of my dad and his beloved pear tree.


About the Creator

Eliza Vargas

LA, aspiring singer, actress, and writer

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