When tragedy strikes, we are forced to make a choice.

When my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty, each of us affected by it were forced to choose a path.

As the sun came up on May 19, 2016 and Davey was dead, and I found myself on a dark pit of grief and sadness. I realized that I wanted to stay in that pit – it felt right. Davey was gone. This is how I should feel.

It didn’t take me long to realize I couldn’t stay in the pit. The sun kept coming up each day and there was a reason God had left me behind on this planet.

I had a lot of choices to make as I crawled out of the darkness, step by step. Was I going to choose a path of bitterness?  Would I be defined as a victim of what was done to me for the rest of my life?  Would my life get stuck on this event?

Or would I choose life?  Would I figure out how to move forward?  Would I deal with the tears and the grief and the hole in my life in light of the fact that I am still here? God obviously has a purpose for keeping me here.

When tragedy strikes, we are forced to choose.  Each day we make a choice.  The good news is, if we make a wrong choice one day, we can change it the next.  We have this choice each day until that day of our final breath.

My decision was very easy when I thought of what Davey would want me to do.  He loved life.  He loved people.  He loved God.  And he lived his life full speed ahead.  He was snorkeling in Cozumel in this picture with his wife just a few months before he was killed.

There is no question about which choice would honor his legacy.  There is no doubt what he would say if I had the chance to ask.

He would say live life to its fullest.  Love people.  Love God.  Never stop growing and giving and having fun.  Live a life of no regrets.  Forgive and move on so you can avoid bitterness and a victim mentality.  Value integrity and honor.  Make your life count by caring for and helping others.

These are the choices that honor Davey and honor what he stood for.

It’s not an easy thing to do for those of us who have been left behind, but it’s the one he would have wanted.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.