On May 18, 2016 my world blew up – thrusting me into a dark, confusing, very sad place. A place of grief. A place I never wanted to go. My son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.
I have had other people very close to me die – my mother, father and 2 of my brothers.
But this was not the same. Not even close. And I can’t even explain how much worse it has been compared to other deaths in my family. Davey should be here – right now. I should have never had to go to his funeral. If you have lost a child, you understand. If you have not, you will never understand.
My first year after Davey was killed was filled with a swirl of emotions. My heart was smashed as the light Davey brought into my life disappeared. My plans and dreams for him were ripped away. I was smacked in the face with situations that were extremely tough. It all hurt. That first year was unbelievably difficult.
I was hoping the second year would be better. People always say that the first year is the worst, don’t they?
But it wasn’t. In the second year, I began to feel the pain of permanence. The reality of life long-term without Davey didn’t seem possible. But it was happening.
And it keeps happening. I have experienced how empty his birthday feels without him 7 times. I know what Christmas and Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are like without Davey.
I feel the heartbreak behind the smiles when we celebrate the birthdays of his children and 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, 7 1/2 years later, 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 different life, a new reality, a ‘not normal’ normal.
Sometimes this new place fills my heart with sadness as the unending absoluteness of the situation painfully etches itself onto my soul. Thankfully, God’s light and love often shines through that darkness and the blessings that fill my life today overcome the sadness.
I don’t use the word ‘healing’ in relationship to the grief and loss I’ve experienced from Davey’s death because that sounds like it fades away, becomes a barely visible scar. I don’t think that’s a good description of this journey of survival. Often something will happen that touches a piece of my broken heart and the tears that slide down my face are visible evidence of how much I have lost. I’m gradually getting used to my life without Davey but this broken heart is not going away.
In some ways, each new year gets more difficult –
because of the pain of permanence.
Miss you, Davey.
Love you.
My Family Bleeds Blue 
I too lost my son, but in a different situation, you see my son contracted Covid while working, I had no idea he was sick until his wife took him to the hospital. He was there ten days and the medication he was given, killed him, I wasn’t allowed to see him, and I was told I couldn’t call to talk to the Doctor or anyone in ICU. I did talk to the Doctor
once, I asked him to please give him another medicine other than remdisivir, but he told me he couldn’t because the hospital only approved that particular medication. Losing my son has been the worst pain I have ever experienced! It’s been two years this month and he was buried one day before his birthday. For over a year I couldn’t say or even think of the words death or funeral and Chris in the same sentence, it was so foreign to me. I have been back to the grave once, I just can’t make myself go, I know he’s not there because I know when he gave his heart and life to Jesus. Chris wasn’t very outspoken, but so sweet, loving, thoughtful, and so good to me. I didn’t know how to live without him. I have lost a husband, parents and a granddaughter, but losing a child is so unnatural, you think it’s not supposed to happen this way, how can we ever get over this, you can’t, you just get through it, with tears you can’t control and thoughts that haunt you day and night, blame, regrets, anger and whys, constantly going over and over in your mind. With the help of family and friends and crying out for help to my Savior, I have gradually accepted that this is God’s will, it doesn’t take the pain away, it’s just dulls it so you can acclimate to a somewhat normal life. I can’t say enough about Hall County Sheriff’s department, they have gone above and beyond what is expected. It doesn’t get any easier but family and friends make it tolerable, and I can just hear Chris saying “Mom, don’t worry about me I’m happy, take care of yourself, I love you, and I will see you again soon”.
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So sorry you are on this tough road of losing a child with me, Shirley. I published a book on Amazon earlier this year about my journey finding hope and purpose after losing a child. The book is titled,’Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love”. If you would read it, I’m sure you would relate with a lot of things you read and you will know you are not alone. Love you💙💙
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As always; I send my love and hugs. I pray for you because I know the pain will always be there. The Love we find from others and from God is what keeps us going. Love you. Cindy Clark
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Thank you for your support and prayers, Cindy. Hope to see you to give you a hug this week. Love you💙💙
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