So much grief.

So many tears.

147 Police Officers were killed in the line of duty last year.

Multiply that number by the number of wives, children, moms, dads, sisters, brothers, friends, squad members and extended Blue Family members who cared about them.

The number becomes huge.

And that was just for 2019.

86 law enforcement officers already killed this year and it’s only May.

Add up all these –

2018 – 185 deaths

2017 – 184 deaths

2016 – 140 deaths

2015 – 123 deaths.

2014 – 122 deaths.

2013 – 109 deaths.

2012 – 131 deaths.

2011 – 171 deaths.

2010 – 161 deaths…… and it continues.

As I researched these numbers, I found that they fluctuate depending on who is counting and some deaths are evaluated as ‘in the line of duty’ significantly after the fact so the numbers for each year change.  The fact remains – there are a lot.

So many officers killed.

So many people affected.

So much grief.

So many tears.

The initial shock.

The mountain of pain.

The fog of loss.

Waking up every day hoping it wasn’t true.

It took awhile for me to understand how many people were affected when my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix police officer was killed on May 18, 2016.

At first, I didn’t realize that the whole Blue family grieves when one of their brothers or sisters is killed.  But experiencing the huge waves of grief that were rolling over the ocean of over 5000 people at Davey’s funeral opened my eyes.  And the love and support that has continued to this day has shown me just how much the Blue Family cares for each other.  Thank you.

I also didn’t understand at first that there is a large part of the general public who grieves when an officer is killed in the line of duty.

 There are a lot of people in our community who get it.

They understand that police officers put their lives on the line every day for people they don’t even know.  These people understand that police officers are taking bullets that are meant for the innocent – for them and their families.  This crowd knows that police officers are helping them live freely and safely in their neighborhoods.

We tend to forget about this large group of people because they aren’t rioting in the streets.  They aren’t looting and shooting and screaming profanities.

These people were lining the streets as Davey’s casket was escorted by our Blue Family from the church to the cemetery.  These were the people who were filling each overpass on the freeway, holding up flags and signs of love and encouragement.  People from this group were stopped all over the freeway and the sides of the freeway to show their respect for a fallen hero.

Some of these people were saluting as Davey’s limo went by – honoring Davey because they personally knew what it meant to put your life on the line for your country and community.

So many people.

So much grief.

So many tears.

The bullets that were shot on May 18th, 2016 created waves out into our city and across the nation.  Another hero has fallen.

So many.

Too many.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

They were wrong.

I cannot tell you how many people told me “The first year is the hardest” after my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 19, 2016.

They were all wrong.

I had already lost my mom and my dad and my oldest brother along with all of my grandparents and all of my aunts and uncles….and yes, with those deaths, the first year was the hardest.

But it has not been true with the death of my son.  The first year was the most confusing and unpredictable and foggy.  But each year since then, the hole in my life has grown and all I have lost keeps accumulating as Davey continues to miss his children growing up, he misses getting to know new little members of our family, and misses Christmases and birthdays and Mother’s Days.  Every year there is more.

I’m gradually getting used to the growing hole and the lengthening list of things I have lost.  But it’s not easier.

I think the big difference between my older loved ones dying and Davey being killed is I had expected that there would be a time in my life where my father and mother and older brother and others would not be here.  That is the correct order.  It was going to happen.

But Davey was always supposed to be here.  Every thought of my future included him.  Pictures in my mind of me growing old all included Davey and his smile.  Every future celebration, every milestone, every fun family get together and trip included Davey.  Now he’s not here…….and all that I have lost grows.

So, do me a favor.  Don’t tell a parent who has lost a child that the first year is the hardest.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

I would like to write a nice, ‘feel good’ blog for Mother’s Day.  But it isn’t happening.

What’s happening is a rollercoaster of bittersweet emotions on this Mother’s Day.  Some of the issue for me is the fact that my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed on May 18, 2016.  So the horror of that day has overshadowed my Mother’s Day ever since.  The permanent, painful changes in my life emphasize the hole in my heart – especially on this day.

The last Mother’s Day I had with Davey was just 10 days before he was shot and killed.  I was told later that he had the opportunity for some off-duty work that day but he turned it down, saying he wanted to spend the day with the ‘mothers’ in his life.  That doesn’t surprise me – that’s who he was.  He had his priorities straight.

Davey also knew I was alone that day because my husband had taken an emergency flight to Pennsylvania.  My husband’s father had just died.  Yes, my father-in-law passed away two weeks before our son was killed.  Have you ever felt the crushing impact of multiple bombs going off in your life?

When I remember that Mother’s Day, all I can think about is sitting outside at lunch with Davey.  I remember what it felt like to hang out with him – to laugh and have fun.  I remember how different my world felt with him in it.

My Mother’s Day will never be the same.  I know there will always be a cloud over it because I’m missing my son.

But then I remember how thankful I have to have three grandchildren and my daughter is giving us another little grandson in July.  Each one of them is such a blessing in my life!  When I focus on them, Mother’s Day starts to sparkle again.  All the possibilities!  All the new memories to make!  Watching them grow into their own personalities and strengths is awesome.  Watching Davey’s children mature has the added joy of seeing glimpses of him as they exhibit traits they inherited from their dad.

This is the great part of motherhood!

If you have experienced the loss of a child, you know this rollercoaster that I’m describing.  Dark days and then the light shines through.  Things going smooth……until they don’t.  A day I don’t cry at all followed by hours where I can’t stop crying.

Mother’s day – it’s bitter sweet.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

I feel the sadness gradually growing in my heart.  I try to ignore the cloud of dread that is starting to form deep in my soul.

It’s May.

The empty place in my life begins to blot out the sunshine.  This emptiness has a name – Davey.  My son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 19, 2016.

My May used to be centered on having fun on Mother’s Day and celebrating another successful year of marriage with my husband on our anniversary.  Now it’s more about Police Week and Davey’s End of Watch Anniversary.  Mother’s day is bittersweet.  Our anniversary is a reminder of all my husband and I have gone through together these last 4 years……and survived.

It’s been four long years.

Four years of a level of grief I didn’t know was possible.

Four years of a growing hole in my life that is impossible to fill.

Four years of remembering and missing Davey – an awesome man, son, husband, father, friend and Police Officer.

Four years of dealing with the painful reality of all that has been lost.

Four years of figuring out how to move forward, honoring Davey’s sacrifice and his legacy.

Four years of rebuilding dreams in the void where Davey was supposed to be.

Four years without his smile.

Four years of counting on God to get me through another day without Davey.

The closer we get to May 19, the more I wish we could just skip the whole month.  Especially this year.  My husband and I were looking forward to going to Washington, DC for Police Week.  We haven’t seen the museum yet and wanted to experience Police week now that we would not be first year survivors.  For those of you who haven’t been to the memorial, this picture is of me getting a scratching of Davey’s name on the memorial wall.

We recently moved to Colorado but we were going to stop in Phoenix on the way home from Washington to spend time with family and friends and visit Davey’s spot in the cemetery on his EOW.  None of that is happening.

Just more things to add to the long list of disappointments.

So we will spend May 19th doing something that Davey liked to do.  We have found in the past that this helps us get through a tough anniversary.  We’ll start a new tradition and focus on remembering the good times.

I’m so thankful we had 34 1/2 years of good times with Davey.  No regrets.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

The sound of sirens makes my stomach churn.

It means members of my Blue Family are rushing to take care of business.  They are putting themselves at risk – not knowing what they are walking into.

Sirens are a signal that all is not well in my world.

Sirens in the middle of the night are the worst.  When it’s pitch black and the darkness is heaviest, people with darkness in their souls like to crawl out to do their evil deeds.

And so I pray.

I pray for my brothers and sisters in Blue.  I ask my Father God for wisdom for them.  I ask for courage.  I ask for protection.  And I ask that justice will be served so some of the darkness in my community will be taken away.

Sometimes these sirens are firefighters speeding through the streets with their sirens and lights.  Often, these first responders are partnering with our Blue family in order to bring order to chaos and help people who are hurt.  I know some excellent firefighters – and I pray for them, too, as the sirens wail across the night.

All the while, my stomach churns.  And I pray.

You, my dear brothers and sisters in Blue, are a very unusual breed of people.   You race through the night, in a hurry to get to the danger.

You run toward the gunfire.

You step into the middle of messes.  You move forward into the evil and are a human shield for others – even when they don’t like you or respect you.  You deal with the drugged liars and cheaters of our world every day, all day.  You are constantly showing how much you care about your city by caring for the victims of crimes committed by hateful people.

Meanwhile, the sirens scream through the night and my stomach churns.  And I pray, trying to push away the fear.

The fear of what could be happening.

Fear for your wives and husbands.

Fear for your children and your babies.

Fear for your fathers and your mothers.

Fear for your families and friends.

Because I know the danger that accompanies those sirens.

I know what can happen.

The phone call.

The trip to the hospital.

The doctor’s unbelievable words.

And the nightmare.

So I pray.

I’m standing here …..

surrounded by the rubble of my dreams.

They were my dreams for the future of my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

There are times when the piles of my broken hopes and plans overwhelm me.  There are so many good times with him that have been snatched from my life.  So much happiness and so many smiles that will never be.

Davey planned to retire from the Police force and get his teaching certificate.  He wanted to teach in high school and coach high school basketball.  He would have been an awesome teacher and an even greater coach.  I witnessed some of his potential when Micah, his son, got old enough to start playing in various sports leagues.  Davey was always beside him during water breaks, giving him tips and encouraging him.

Unbelievable.  So much has been lost.

Davey was always the responsible oldest child.   He cared for his father and I – making sure we were doing well and getting any help we needed.   A couple of months before he was killed, my husband and I had rented an RV in Denver for a week and then drove it from Denver down to Phoenix.  Davey was not happy when he found out we had gotten back and we hadn’t let him know we were safely home.  He took his responsibilities seriously.

A couple of months before that I was driving my car with a donut (spare tire) because I had a flat tire and hadn’t had time to get it fixed.  He refused to let me drive my car to work on the freeway because donuts were not made to go that fast.  It’s not safe.  He insisted that we switch cars and he got my tire fixed for me while I went to work.

He was supposed to be here beside his dad and I as we move into the fall of our lives.  He was supposed to grow old with his wife.  He was supposed to coach his children’s sports teams and proudly watch them graduate from high school.  Then he was planning to happily watch them graduate from ASU (if he got his way).   We were supposed to share the joy of weddings and his grandchildren with him.

But it’s all gone.

Only the painful rubble of my dreams is left.

I’m standing here because I’m not sitting. I’m not staying in the rubble.

I’m still here because God has a purpose for me.  I’m not done yet.  So I’ll keep moving forward, going where God leads me until he calls me home –  where there are no tears, no grief, no rubble.

MIss you Davey.

#8144loveyou

Easter is here – one of my favorite holidays!  This year we are celebrating Easter quietly which is making it easier to focus on the real meaning of the day.

One of my favorite memories of Easter was when a small 5 year-old boy decided he wanted to go to the sunrise service his church was having for the first time.  He REALLY wanted to go.  He bugged his mom until she said, “Okay, but we will only go if you get yourself up and dressed and come wake us up.”

And he did!

Imagine my surprise!  Yes, that little boy was my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

On Easter, we celebrate the joy and light Jesus brought into our world when he rose and proved his power over death.  Jesus is our hope.  He was Davey’s hope and Davey knew that when he was 5 years-old.  He was excited about celebrating Easter and he wanted to do it outside watching the sun come up.

My daughter was just 6 months old at that time so I was not excited about getting up at 5 am unless I had to.  But Davey would not be talked or bribed out of it.  So I gave him an alarm clock and we set it the night before.  I showed him how to turn the alarm off, expecting that when the alarm went off and he saw how dark it was, he would just turn over and go back to sleep until it was time to get up for the normal church service.

Imagine my surprise the next morning when a little hand reached over the side of my bed in the dark and shook my arm.  There he was – all ready and smiling and excited about going to the sunrise service!  So my husband and I struggled out of bed and pulled on warm clothes.  I had to wake up the baby which is something I hated to do but a deal is a deal.

Davey got more and more excited as we drove to the park where the service was being held.  We dragged blankets and baby gear up the side of one hill and settled into our spot just as the sun started peaking over another hill in front of us and the music started.

It was an awesome service and we were hooked.  We went to sunrise service every year after that – we never missed it.

I realized something else that day – Davey could use an alarm clock, get up and get himself ready.  So, that’s what he started doing Monday through Friday.  It was great!  I’m not aware of very many 5 year-olds who get themselves up and walk out of their rooms in the morning dressed and ready for preschool but that’s what he did.

So today I celebrate the resurrection of my Savior.  And today I celebrate this precious memory of a special little boy who became an awesome young man.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

The answer is yes.

When I am asked if other law enforcement officers being killed in the line of duty brings it all back, the answer is always yes.  It brings back the horrible shock and loss of May 18, 2016 when my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.

The recent line of duty death of Commander Greg Carnicle has been a shock.  He had such a long and awesome career in law enforcement.  He made so many great contributions to our city.  His loss is such a tragedy.  Thankfully the other officers who were shot at the same time are recovering.

I can’t stop thinking and praying for Commander Carnicle’s family, friends and co-workers.  My broken heart understands the pain they are experiencing and the struggles yet to come.  I know they are waking up each morning hoping it was all just an extremely bad nightmare…….

and then letting the tears flow as they realize it wasn’t.  Their world has shattered…..

and it will never be the same.

I relive these feelings every time I hear of another officer being killed.

Too many people don’t understand that each death of a Law Enforcement Officer is a tragedy for all of us.  These are the courageous people who are standing in a thin blue line between all of us and evil.  They are standing between you and the people who want to make your neighborhood, your city, a dangerous place to live.  They put themselves in harm’s way each day for us.

When good guys lose, we all lose.

And we have all lost another hero.  Commander Carnicle was a man dedicated to making a positive difference in our community.  A man willing to stand up against what is wrong and help make it right.

Those of us left behind will remember and honor Commander Carmicle for his bravery, commitment and sacrifice.  There are a lot of ways we can personally show our support for his family, for the officers who were injured in the same confrontation and for the Law Enforcement Officers who are still working hard each day to fight evil on our behalf.

Let’s all pick a way to show our appreciation and do it.

The Thin Blue Line just got a little thinner.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

Parts of the craziness surrounding us because of the Coronavirus feel very familiar to me.  It feels like I’ve been here before.

The uncertainty.  The concerns.  Bad news piling higher every day.  The world as I know it being gone.

I felt this after my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  So many unknowns.  Painful changes.  Dark days and even darker nights.

First came the unbelievable shock of his death.  Next was the huge funeral -the majority of that day is covered in a fog of pain and grief in my memory.  And then- somehow – those of us that loved him had to find a way to start moving through our days – shell-shocked by what had happened.  My mind swirled daily around the hope that it was all a nightmare…… a long nightmare.

Bad news grew as the reality of life without Davey become clearer.  So much lost – how can we possibly go on?  All of my plans and dreams for the future included Davey.  Every one of them was ripped away.

When our framily (family and friends who are family) got together in those first months, we would often sit in silence….staring.  There was nothing to say.  It was all too horrible.

For months I wondered why people I saw in public were smiling?  What did they have to laugh about?  It was hard being out around people who were happy with all their dreams still intact.  I felt like an island of pain and grief moving among people who had no idea what it feels like to have your whole world explode.

That’s one of the big differences about our situation today – we are all in it together.  We are all affected.  We are sharing this experience and – for me – this makes it a little easier.

Another huge difference about our situation today is that we know – someday – something about the virus will be figured out so we can gradually get back to a new normal.  Someday, the stock market will rebound, jobs will come back.  We will be able to hang out with our friends again and play sports again.

But Davey will not be coming back. There is no future on this earth that includes him.

That’s the worst that can happen.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou

A good friend of my son, David Glasser, asked me the other day what I thought Davey would say about the Coronavirus.  Davey was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

Davey was known for his quick and clever opinions on any topic.  He loved to make jokes and get people laughing.  He would wear funny hats and outfits sometimes because it caused people to smile.

After thinking for a minute, I said I knew he would take the virus very seriously.  He didn’t joke about things like this.

But he would have a great repertoire of clever quips about how crazy some people are responding to the pandemic.  Just like the news of the virus changes every day, every time one of us talked to him, he would have had new and even more hilarious things to say about the shopping insanity.

Wow!  I wish I could hear what he would say about people hoarding toilet paper!  Just thinking about it makes me smile.  I’m not as clever as he was so I can’t even imagine how much fun he would make of people buying up all the toilet paper in an effort to save themselves from the virus.

‘Save me, Charmin!’

He would have just as much to say about the fact that people are hoarding food.  People with a lot of food in their houses are still going to the store every day to get more….and more….and more.   I think extraverts are going to the store all the time because it’s one of the only approved places they can go.  Forget about the fact that going to the store provides more exposure to the virus for them.

Meanwhile, the rest of us who are not hoarding cannot get the supplies we need.  The supplies we need are piling up in other people’s houses and garages.

Who has my sanitizer wipes?

Yes, Davey would have a continually growing monologue of pointed and humorous comments to say about all this.

And you would hear it if you were out on the streets, helping people and putting yourself at risk like he would have been.

And that’s just what all first responders and health care professionals are doing right now – putting themselves in the direct line of the virus in order to serve and protect others. Please join me in a prayer for safety, courage and success for everyone on the front lines of this pandemic.

Miss you, Davey.

#8144loveyou