A Bizarre Conversation

George Bernard Shaw once said, “The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it has taken place.”

When things went wrong my mom used to say, “Tragedy plus time equals humor.”

Maybe they were both right.

Several years ago my friend Lonnie, from New Hampshire, called me on her cell phone. The connection was terrible and her phone kept cutting out. We both had to strain to understand all the words and would miss a few here and there.

We had not talked for months and there was a lot of catching up to do. After listening to Lonnie for awhile, she asked what was happening in my life. “Oh, so much has happened, I don’t even know where to start. I’ll just have to run through the basics.” I then proceeded to tell her of the events of the past year. “Let’s see…in February my dog died.”

Lonnie: “Oh, that is terrible! I am sooo sorry! That is just terrible. What happened?”

Me: “Yes, it was sad. I almost called you then, but after all you’ve been through these past few years, it didn’t seem that significant. Your losses have been so much worse.”

Lonnie: “Oh, no this is huge. This is a big loss and very sad. Tell me about it. What happened?”

Me: “Well, it was a Sunday morning and Peter went out early to feed the horses like he usually does. He called for him, but could not find him. Then he walked out toward the front of the yard and saw him lying by the side of the road. You could see what had happened. Someone had hit him and dragged him to the side of the road.”

Lonnie: “You mean it was a hit and run?”

Me: “Well, yes, I guess so.”

Lonnie: “Was he just hurt?”

Me: “No. He died. It was so sad.”

Lonnie: “Did you call the police?”

Me: “Well, no. Later we found out who it was. It was a neighbor’s son and he felt so bad. It was dark and foggy and he couldn’t see him. It just happened so fast. He wasn’t sure who he belonged to. We were new after all. Everyone felt bad. He hardly ever left the yard, and it was just one of those split second things with bad timing. We didn’t want to make them feel worse, so we didn’t really talk about it with anyone. Peter just buried him in the back yard. He had to tell me the sad news when I woke up. We both cried our eyes out.”

Lonnie: You buried him in the back yard???” Cali…what in the _ _ _ _are you talking about??”

Me: “I’m talking about my dog! My dog died!”

Muffled laughter is heard on the other end of the line.

Lonnie: “Your dog died? Oh, Cali, I AM SO RELIEVED…I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOUR DAD DIED!” (She begins to laugh hysterically). “I am so sorry about Butch, I really am. But, I am so relieved that your Dad is not dead!” (She continues to laugh hysterically).

By now I am laughing too. It is the first time I have been able to laugh about something so tragic in my life. It broke my heart, but this conversation was ludicrous. The thought of burying my dad in the back yard so we wouldn’t make anyone feel bad…as if my mom might never ask or notice. It was all hysterically funny in a sick kind of way. I guess when you go through unthinkable tragedy (not me, but Lonnie…she has lost two of her four children), nothing really surprises or shocks you after awhile. It is a relief to have bizarre things to laugh at. We both laughed and laughed.

I thought how Lonnie is the one friend I have in this world who has always been able to make me see the hilarious side of what I perceive to be “The End of the World.” I don’t know how she does it, but it is a great gift. Maybe that’s why we were brought together as friends. There is a comfort in knowing that “this too shall pass,” be what it may…a traumatic cross country move, toilet training a strong willed toddler (the impossible dream), an unexpected injury, illness, and yes, even death.

After awhile you realize that life is full of loss and trauma. You either laugh or you cry. Usually to stay sane, you have to do a lot of both. It’s a lot better and more healing when you have a friend to do it with.

Thanks, Lonnie, for being that friend!