CITY FIREFIGHTER LOVED BEAUTY OF NATURAL WORLD
Stress proved too much for Barry Dawson after many years of dealing with PTSD
He sits at a cliff’s edge, his tattoo-covered arms spread out as though he were hugging the stunning mountain peak before him in the distance.
With his back to the camera, you can’t see what surely must have been Barry Dawson’s usual wide smile. Those who knew and loved the Calgary firefighter, though, are sure of this.
In his 47 years on the planet, Dawson, who rose through the ranks to become a captain with the Calgary Fire Department, had an enviable knack for soaking up the beauty around him, especially when it came to the natural world.
The man who spent his offtime trekking and skiing in the Rockies and cycling the roads and trails of the foothills, along with reconnecting with his Indigenous roots, was all about beauty, laughter, commitment and love.
Yet like any first responder, the native New Yorker’s work life was a daily reckoning with the worst of life and, all too often, death.
As a firefighter for the past 17 years, he got a front seat to the tragic aftermath of motor vehicle collisions and other tragic accidents, natural death and, increasingly, very public suicides.
On Nov. 11, the stresses of his own life proved too much for Dawson, who died by suicide after a long period of dealing with PTSD and then, a sudden and swift descent into mental illness in the months before his death.
On Friday morning, more than 300 mourners gather at Calgary’s First Alliance Church to say goodbye to the first responder with the Calgary Fire Department, at a memorial service that both celebrates Dawson’s inner and outer beauty and faces, headon, the very real dangers those in his profession face.
Members of the city’s uniformed EMS and fire departments are out in full force, their numbers so large one wonders who’s manning the local fire stations and ambulances on this sunny November morning.
The people closest to Dawson tell the crowd about his incredible sense of humour, his infectious smile and his dedication to seeing that his fellow firefighters were both excellent at their jobs and mindful of the toll such a role in society can take on a mere mortal.
“His spirit of resiliency and good humour would see Barry through many tragedies, good times, bad times,” says First Nation elder Doreen Spence of her longtime friend, who was given the Cree name Muskwa, or Bear, “and all those times after that suffering, he became more sensitive.”
Spence, an internationally renowned Indigenous rights activist, says Dawson often told her how important it was make sure the firefighters who worked under him were debriefed after a call.
“Barry suffered from PTSD for many years,” says Spence, “for which he sacrificed his life.”
Mike Dawson, calling those fellow first responders gathered in the church “heroes,” reminds them that there are people like his younger brother needing help today.
He tells them that when they leave the memorial service, to reach out to someone they know they should connect with, but just haven’t found the time. “If you don’t and you suddenly lose them … it may tear you apart inside.”
Dawson’s fiancée, Melissa Murray, also doesn’t mince words. Murray, who spoke out publicly earlier this week about the mental health risks that first responders face on a regular basis, talks about both their happy times and Dawson’s sudden descent into illness this past August.
“His mind and body were taken over by the sickness,” she says in the softest of voices. “In Barry’s true spirit, let us please love and care for one another, reach out to one another when we’re hurting, love ourselves enough to reach out for help.
Behind her on a giant screen, that beautiful image of Barry Dawson is displayed, his arms outstretched, each hand forming the peace sign, as he gazes upon that mountain peak with what was surely his famous, widemouthed smile.