The Pain of Permanence

May 18, 2016 blew up my world – thrusting me into a dark, confusing, very sad place.  A place of grief.  A place I never wanted to go.

I have had other people very close to me die – my mother, father and older brother.

But this was not the same.  Not even close.

My son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police officer, was killed  in the line of duty.  And I can’t even explain how much worse it has been compared to other deaths in my family.

Yes, last year was a very tough year of ‘firsts’.

But now the pain of permanence has set in.  The reality of life long-term without Davey doesn’t seem possible.  Because, after a year, I know what that life feels like.

Now I know how empty his birthday feels without him.

I know what Christmas and Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are like without Davey.

I know the heartbreak behind the smiles during the birthday parties of his children when a very happy and proud father is missing.

There are no words to describe how awful the permanence of this situation feels.  It’s impossible.  I believe strongly in the goodness of God…..but this doesn’t feel good.

In the months following May 18, 2016, I had no idea how my family and I would find our way back to our normal.  Now, as we start moving through our 2d year without Davey, I understand that we will never go back.

That time, that place is gone.

My life – our life – back there is gone.

So we have to move forward – a new life, a new reality, a new normal.  Without Davey.

Sometimes this new place is filled with sadness as the unending reality of the situation etches itself onto my soul.  Other times light shine through the darkness and possibilities peak around corners.

In some ways this year is going to be tougher than last year….

because its starting to feel very permanent.


5 responses to “The Pain of Permanence”

  1. Reblogged this on My Family Bleeds Blue and commented:

    As we move toward the second anniversary of Dave’s death, the pain of permanence is growing. Here are some of my thoughts from last year. In some ways the 2d year has been tougher than the first year.


  2. My heart aches for you in your loss and for the loss of so many of our police officers. I read many of your post below and thanks for sharing. God bless you and your family and prayers for the healing of you pain


    1. Thank you for the prayers.💙💙


  3. Oh man . . . I know so much what you mean. I felt the same about the 2nd year. I did not want one bit of my beautiful brother to get less . . . farther away . . . and become permanently ‘the norm.’

    Your piece is beautiful, descriptive writing of the emotional loving devastational pain of deepest loss.

    Thank you Judy. I love reading your words and thinking about their importance . . . always . . .

    Love you. Anne


    1. Thank you for the encouragement, Anne! Love you!💙💙


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