Dawn Berkoski

The Wild West.

I always wanted to go to Tombstone, Arizona. A stroll through the past. A dust covered street where cowboys lived, and gunfights might erupt at any time. In my head, it was an important historical recreation, something new to learn and experience. But the reality was completely different from my imagination.

I walked along the rickety plank sidewalk, weaving in and out of little shops and funhouses. I thought of my mother. She loved trinkets and tourist traps, and she had been to Tombstone once before. Her voice held excitement as she told me all about her visit.

“It’s fun!” she said. “We’ll have to go together.”

But she passed away before we had the chance.

So, there I was, a few days after her death, shaky from the nightmares of her final days battling cancer, mindlessly wandering a town called Tombstone.

I stopped for a moment, watching a group of tourists pay to dress up in historical costumes like they were in the 1881 gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Long gowns and bonnets, vests and cowboy hats. They were instructed to pretend to get shot and fall down in the middle of the road.

It was…disturbing. My stomach turned. I started to feel uneasy. Everyone was laughing and having a good time, a fun family trip, they say, but all I wanted was to get out of there. Present times clashed with the past. I thought of all the children who died to gun violence. Images of bloody hallways that haunt me still. And I tried to block it out as I watched the tourists fall, one by one. This was the harsh reality of life in those times. This was history!

This was the current.

And yet, as ill as I felt, sick with death, it helped me process my grief. I wasn’t alone. This thread connects us all. Love, loss, life, and what it means to live as if our lives depend on it. Everything could end with the flick of a finger.

“Don’t wait, Dawn.” I could hear my mother’s voice. “Live! Love! Laugh!”

I listened. I walked away from the gunfight, the violence, those dark moments. I explored other attractions. I had fun in a haunted museum, visited the jailhouse, the historic courthouse, and the home of Wyatt Earp. I learned about the famous sharpshooter, Annie Oakley, a skill she developed hunting food for her family. I appreciated my time walking in the footsteps of the deceased. And when I left Tombstone, I left the past where it belonged.

Dawn B~