Today was a day full of memories. Most of them were very good even though some of the sad ones snuck in. Today we gathered together family and friends for a Cornhole tournament in Davey’s honor. My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 19, 2016. Almost 10 years ago.

A lifetime ago.

Several of the people who were at the cornhole tournament today were there that night. The night Davey died. The night that all of our lives blew up. The night that it felt like I had been dropped into hell and several of the people that were there today went with me. They did everything they knew to do to help even though their hearts were broken and hurting, too. I know hell is worse because God isn’t there but this was by far the worst night of my life. I have a lot of very bad memories of that night.

The entire week between Davey’s death and his funeral felt surreal – this really wasn’t happening. There was no reason to smile, the world was very dark and everything was bad. It felt like all that was light and good had disappeared from my world. These same people I saw today were feeding us and driving us and taking care of all the hundreds of details of organizing Davey’s funeral. I have a bunch of foggy, sad memories of that week.

It was at Davey’s funeral that his buddy, James Byrd, told us that Davey had the habit of saying ‘love you’ instead of good-by and he had his squad of big, tough cops saying it to each other. We knew Davey said it to us, we didn’t know he said it to everybody he cared for. It was very comforting to know that the last thing Davey had said to all of us was ‘love you’ and the last thing we had said to him was ‘love you’.

So we all adopted the habit and started saying it to everyone. And light gradually started to show through the darkness. The fog started lifting. These same people continued for care for us and support us. In my memories, things gradually became less dark, less painful.

It took 3 years for most of my memories of those early years of losing Davey to become more precious than painful. The memories of the first several months after he was killed will always be difficult. But love eventually changed my journey from grief into gratitude for the 34 1/2 years we had him in our lives.

And I feel very grateful to many of the people I saw today for their care and love all the way from then to now. Those will always be my good memories.

Missed you today, Davey.

Love you.