They say losing your job is like losing a child or a parent. I say it's more like losing a dream. No matter how hard you try to hold on, it's gone.

Even when you know it's coming - when you've been treading water for three months, never knowing if that tingling in your legs is hypothermia or a shark sniffing around for dinner - you keep scanning the horizon for a rescue ship.

In the case of the Rocky, that ship never arrived.

Despite the sadness, I try not to lose sight of the fact that my 21 years at the paper have been filled with a lot of wonderful memories.

I've gotten to travel and meet great people. And no two days were ever the same. Here are a few things I'll most remember:

* My first day on the job in 1988 I was passing the city desk when an editor took a call from a distraught woman whose dog had just been eaten by a mountain lion. "Are you sure it was a mountain lion?" the editor kept asking the clearly hysterical women in the foothills. I hailed from Indiana by way of El Paso, Texas. I couldn't have been more surprised if she'd said her cat got in a fight with a camel and tore off one of its humps.

* Although I was raised Catholic, I didn't quite understand how big a deal the pope was until he came to Denver in 1993 for World Youth Day. Hordes of young people flooded the streets looking bright and cheerful and optimistic. There were more colorful T-shirts than at a Grateful Dead concert. Not a Goth in sight. I remember strolling to Civic Center Park where the pope was going to celebrate Mass. I'd never been in such a large, yet respectful, crowd. I didn't feel any less like a sinner, mind you, yet the outpouring of good will was unprecedented.

* The blizzards. I know, that's not something you'd normally associate with fond memories, but the weather in Denver tested even this seasoned Midwesterner's mettle. Like the postal service, newspapers publish rain or shine. When others could call in sick for work (or at least feign car trouble), journalists are expected to show up regardless. In 20 years in Denver, I only missed one day of work because of weather. It would've been two, except for that day I was scheduled to tape a TV show at Rocky Mountain PBS, and they sent a Humvee to pick me up. Thank God for public television.

* Covering the arts in Denver has been an unparalleled joy. The fact that we've got such diversity is the first surprise. The second is that the residents here love their theater and their concerts and their festivals. God, does Denver love a festival.

When I arrived in 1988 A Taste of Colorado was going on. I thought: "How kind of these people to throw a party with turkey legs the size of baseball bats just to welcome me!"

I've met a lot of celebrities during my tenure, and they were almost uniformly nice. Will Smith came to the newsroom a few months back and caused even seasoned journalists to take notice. The only celebrity I encountered who wasn't friendly was actor Ed Asner. I sat next to him on a shuttle bus at DIA early one morning, and he shot me a look that said: "If you talk to me I will slap the taste out of your mouth." I didn't say a word.

* Unless you've experienced a national political convention in the town where you reside, you can't quite fathom the pageantry. Although I'm not a political writer, I got to spend a couple of hours on the floor of the Democratic National Convention at the Pepsi Center in August, and I was dazzled by both the physical transformation of the place and by Katie Couric's hair. She walked by me looking even more perfect that she does on television. And she was friendly.

I also reveled in last summer's visitors to our city. I must have helped a couple of dozen people with directions, and working downtown gave me a prime vantage of how the city likes to sell itself. Seeing the 16th Street Mall turned into a surreal carnival - complete with a New Orleans brass band, one day - was amazing. When the visitors left, Denver suddenly felt empty, like someone had stolen all the furniture from your house.

* Finally, I treasure the people I've met in Denver. Not just those I've interviewed over the years, but those I've worked with. Being in a newsroom that's won several Pulitzer Prizes humbles you. Some of my colleagues have gone on to The New York Times, The Boston Globe and many other major journalistic institutions. Seeing their dedication firsthand made me want to be a better journalist. And I think I was.

The truth is that you don't stop being a journalist because your job ends. The press may no longer roll, but your world viewer remains intact. You want to gather information and share it with people Â? even if that means just your dogs.

Life goes on. The pity is the Rocky couldn't have seen her life extended two more months to celebrate her 150th birthday.

I guess we've ascribed to that old show biz adage: Always leave' em wanting more. That includes those of us who work here.

Mike Pearson is the pop culture witer at the Rocky Mountain News. pearsonm@RockyMountainNews.com