It happened again this week. While talking with someone I just met, the subject came up and I said my son, David Glasser, had been killed in the line of duty 5 years ago.
5 years ago.
Sometimes the pain feels like yesterday. It’s very hard. And saying it makes it more real.
For weeks after Davey’s death, I would wake up every morning hoping that it was all just a bad dream.
Praying that it was all a nightmare that I could wake up from.
Every morning I would open my eyes and look around my bedroom – hoping I wouldn’t see the frame on my dresser which holds the last Mother’s Day card I’ll ever get from Davey. The one he signed “I love you”.
Every morning I would hope I wouldn’t see the box with his picture and a flag and his metal of honor that stood on the counter in my kitchen.
Every morning I hoped I wouldn’t see the memorial handed out at his funeral which I posted in our living room. He had such a great smile!
Every morning I wished that this would be the day that his tall, lanky frame would come back through my front door.
But I saw the card and the flag box and the memorial and Davey never walked through my door again.
Because it wasn’t just a very bad dream.
The worst happened.
The nightmare is real.
There’s a big gaping hole in our lives. We can’t go back to our old lives because Davey is not there. It’s like a dimmer switch has been turned down on the light and laughter and joy in our world.
If you knew him, feel it, too.
I don’t know how people can deal with tragedy like this without faith in God. I believe that Davey is in heaven with his Father God. With my Father God. He’s there with my mother, father, stepfather, brother and many more of my family and friends who have gone home before him. I believe that God is in the process of bringing good out of the evil that was done. I believe that I’ve been left behind because God has a part for me in his plan.
Davey walked into my dream a couple of months after he was killed. I was sitting at the table with my daughter-in-law and my little granddaughter. It felt like a regular ‘time to color’ or ‘let’s eat’. Then Davey walked in and sat down. He gave us a big smile. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled at all of us.
I looked around the table at his ‘girls’ and blinked.
Maybe everything else really was all just a dream!!
It felt so real. The explosion of hope in my heart was so strong that it woke me up.
And the nightmare was back. Sometimes I just want to live in that dream.
But Davey’s big smile stays with me. He’s happy. He is in a place with no sadness, pain or nightmares. The battle between good and evil that he committed his adult life to here on earth is over for him. Where he is, the good guys have won. Davey has won.
On the day that is already determined for me, I will see him again. It will not be a dream, it will be my new, eternal reality.
What about you?
I know Davey would like to see you again, too.
Miss you, Davey.