Author: Judy Glasser

Life is a journey. Sometimes I'm coasting downhill and, other times, its a tough road uphill. My journey has been straight uphill since May 19, 2016 when my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer was killed in the line of duty. When my life and dreams blew apart, I only had one option - to hold on tightly to my Rock, my Father God. I have a new understanding of just how short life is and how important it is to take loving each other seriously. God is love and all love comes from him. I have seen love do supernatural things since my son was killed. I have published a book, "Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love." about my tough and painful journey since my son was killed. You can order it from Amazon or you can get an autographed copy by contacting me on messenger. I am sharing some of my experiences as a survivor of a line of duty death in MYFAMILYBLEEDSBLUE.COM. Please feel free to share these blogs with anyone you know who might find them helpful. My other blog - JOURNEYTOWARDSTHETRUTH.COM - has been a work of love for many years as I read through the Chronological Daily Bible each year and share what I hear from God when he stops me. I am inviting you to come along on one or both of my journeys. Please share as often as you'd like. Thanks so much for reading!

It All Shook

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May 18, 2016.

David Glasser, my son, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on that day.

And everything in my world shook.

You cannot imagine what that feels like until it happens to you.  And it wasn’t just my life – the tsunami of his death hit everyone who was close to Davey. My two grandchildren’s world exploded.  My daughter-in-law’s world crashed. My daughter’s world flipped upside down as all of her dreams and plans with her big brother crumbled.

My husband’s world shattered into tiny pieces.  Davey was his best friend and my husband’s father had just passed away 10 days before Davey was killed.  Too much. How do we deal with this much devastating loss in such a short time?

Davey’s close friend’s and squad member’s worlds spiraled in various directions as each person felt the blow of Davey’s death.

The world shook.  It twisted.  It filled with unimaginable grief.  It emptied of joy and light.

I needed something solid to hold onto while everything around me smashed and rocked.  And I found the one thing that didn’t shatter, didn’t tilt, didn’t explode.  He was right beside me and he was Rock Solid – my Father God.  Always there, always loving me, always caring for me.

God has been with us every step of the way as we have each had to pick our way through the devastation Davey’s death had on our lives.  I am completely convinced that God is good and nothing that has happened to me changes that.

When my world gradually stopped shaking, I realized I was in this new place, a new reality.  It’s somewhere I never, ever wanted to be. My head recognizes this place and I know I have been left behind for a purpose. I have to keep moving forward. 

My heart is still regularly tugged back to a time when Davey was here, making me laugh and filling my life with his special kind of love. My husband and I just spent 10 days in the Phoenix area making new memories with Davey’s two children, having fun with old friends and making new friends. I had to stop my heart from focusing on how empty Phoenix feels without Davey. It’s hard. It hurts. People and places just kept touching the broken parts of my heart, the parts that will remain like that until I go to my forever home. So many precious memories of a different time……

my life before my whole world shook.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

The Most Difficult Time of the Year

Each day, as we get closer to Christmas, the hole in my heart grows a little bigger…and a little darker.  The pain becomes a little stronger.

It becomes increasingly harder not to focus on what I have lost.  What my family has lost.

David Glasser, my son, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty May 18, 2016.  My journey since then has been a uphill struggle.  And this struggle intensifies during the holidays when happy memories haunt my days.  Davey is 7 in this picture and our daughter, Katie, is 3.  They were both so excited about Christmas!  Davey had actually received the Teddy Ruxspin bear that Katie is holding from a family member for his birthday in November but his little sister loved it so much that he let her have it.  That’s who he was already at 7 years-old.

Sometimes I just wish the holidays were over.

I know many of you share my feelings.  Since I’ve had this very public and tragic loss in my life, more people have been telling me about their own heartbreaks and the losses they have experienced.  And others haven’t talked about it but I can see the private pain in your eyes when we talk about my tragedy.

We both know the struggle, we share the struggle – especially at Christmas.

So I force my attention away from my loss and focus on all the blessings God is giving me right now –  my four granddarlings are at the top of that list.  They are so precious and they distract me from thinking about who is NOT here.

One of the several life-changing lessons I have learned from this tragedy is just how short our lives can be and how quickly someone can be gone.  The painful grief I feel reminds me that I need to make the most of the time I have now with the people that are still here.  This is not the time to get stuck in yesterday.  I have new memories to make because there is no guarantee that we’ll have tomorrow together here on earth.

My heartache also reminds me that you and I shouldn’t ignore the difficult days that so many people around us are experiencing this time of year.  I read that the Christmas season has the highest rate of suicide across our nation.

That is so wrong.

So I pray for those of us who are feeling additional pain and loss during these tough weeks.  And I am trying to be extra patient and kind to people in my world this week – on the freeway, at the store, in the parking lots.  Many of them are going through hard times and I don’t want to add to the difficulties they have in their lives.

Can each of us think of a way we can reach out helping hands to others who are not enjoying ‘the most wonderful time of the year’?

And please join me in praying for a little more peace on earth during this holiday season.  We need it.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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It’s Happening Again

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This will be my 9th Christmas without my son, David Glasser.  He was a Phoenix Police Officer killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably heard this many times – “the first year without them is the worst”. Crowds of people told me this during that first Christmas season after Davey’s death.  And, yes, it was very tough.   The Christmas season lasted forever.  It was hard to be around so many smiling people who were celebrating and having a fun time.  I was not having a fun time.  My smiles were few and far between.  I felt a huge amount of relief when that first holiday season was finally over.

So I was hoping that what people told me was true and the coming years would be better.  It surprised me when the second Christmas was even more painful than the first as the permanence of the situation started to become a reality.  The permanence of the pain has become increasingly real during the 3rd,  4th , 5th 6th, 7th and 8th years of living with the growing hole where Davey should be.

This is my 9th Christmas without Davey – and it’s happening again.  It’s my Quadruple Whammy. One punch, two punches, three punches and then – the final punch.

The first punch is Davey’s son, Micah’s, birthday in the beginning of November.  I still don’t want to believe that Davey will never be at any of Micah’s birthdays, graduations, wedding, or hold his own grandchildren.  We have lost so much.

Next comes Davey’s birthday in November – a couple of weeks after Micah’s.  It was his 43rd birthday this year – full of great memories laced with the pain.  He should have had 60 more birthdays.  We have all been robbed.

The third punch is Thanksgiving.  There are times when I struggle to say, “Happy Thanksgiving” to people.  For me, it’s compounded by the fact that my father died on Thanksgiving 46 years ago.  Last year my brother, Marlow, passed away 3 days after Thanksgiving. He was the last of my 3 older brothers and I’m the only member of my immediate family left. It’s not surprising that I ride an emotional roller coaster up and down during November.

And then the final whammy – Christmas.  So many great Christmas’ with Davey!  He was a light in my life and now it’s hard to ignore the darkness.  So I focus on how grateful I am for the birth of God’s son, Jesus, my Savior.  Jesus is the light of the world and the hope he gives me lights up the dark places in my life.

I’ll just say this right out loud for me and for people like me – I’ll be glad when New Years Eve is over and another holiday season is past.  I feel pretty beat up by the time January rolls around.

In the Law Enforcement world, people like me are called Survivors.  I’ve spent over 8 years learning just how much surviving we have to do when we lose a child.  Every year, we have to ‘survive’ the holidays and birthdays and other special days.  We never know when something is going to reach out of a perfectly normal celebration and punch us in the gut.  It comes out of nowhere and spins us into the dark hole of grief we had hoped we left behind.

You have heard this from me before and you are hearing it again because it’s still true.  I have discovered that the best way for me to survive and deal with the whammies is to focus on all the good I had in my life before Davey was killed and all the good I still have.  When I focus on all I have lost, the pain intensifies.

I have also decided to get as close to God as I can and he comforts me each time my heart breaks a little more.

Because my quadruple whammy is not going away.  It’s happening again this year.

Miss you, Davey. 

Love you.

Irreplaceable

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I thought it was irreplaceable.

About 4 years ago, my wedding ring had a loose stone so a major jewelry store sent it in to be fixed.

And my ring disappeared.

Somewhere between the jewelry store and the shop that fixes jewelry, my ring along with a whole box of other people’s jewelry was stolen.  Gone!

For almost 40 years at that time, my husband I had an ‘every 5 years’ anniversary tradition of changing or adding something to my ring. This made my ring very unique with a lot of sentimental memories attached to it. Eight years ago we added blue sapphires to my ring after our son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty. It’s the only piece of jewelry I usually wear other than Davey’s memorial bracelet.

This ring was precious to me so I never took it off except at night and then it always went the same place.  I didn’t want to lose it.

Now the jewelry store lost it.  Unbelievable!

Of course I cried.  So much has been lost and now I’m adding my wedding ring to that list.  The jewelry store tried to do their best to replace it with something comparable and they did a good job.  But my original ring was irreplaceable.

Well, on second thought, my perspective these last 8 years since Davey was killed has definitely changed. There is a new standard in my mind that I measure  everything here on earth by to determine whether it’s irreplaceable.  And my ring actually isn’t even on that list.

Because, at the top of the irreplaceable list is my son, Davey.  In an instant, he was gone.  He went to work on May 18, 2016 and never came back.  And he is truly irreplaceable.  He defines irreplaceable.  He was such a huge personality and so special.  Nothing and no one can fill the hole he left on this earth.

When I think about it, it’s people in my life who are irreplaceable.  None of the ‘stuff’ in life means much when it’s stacked up against the people that mean the most to me.

Those of you who follow my blog know that last year my ring disappeared again. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I only take it off at night and I always put it in the same place…..but, one day, it wasn’t there in the morning. To say that I looked for it everywhere is an understatement. I’m glad I had already figured out what it was not irreplaceable but losing it still stung. I had three older brothers and the last one passed away around the same time that I lost my ring. More loss. It was piling up.

So I prayed. I knew God knew exactly where my ring was and I asked him to bring it back to me. Every time it bothered me, I prayed. And 4 months later, it showed up in a place where I had looked many times. Thank you, God.

I lost Davey, too, but I know where he is and God is going to give him back to me someday when I get to my forever home.

One of the things that is important to me about my relationship with God is that he has promised nothing could make him stop loving me.  Nothing.  Ever.  I don’t have to be concerned about ever losing my relationship with him.  My life is built on the Solid Rock.  I might lose everything else here on earth, but not God.

Having this new standard of irreplaceable has helped me focus on the most precious things in my life – my relationship with God and with the people who have been left behind on this planet with me. It has helped me put ‘stuff’ and possessions in the right place on my list of what is important – at the bottom.  It has helped me be okay with losing my original ring.  It was just a thing.  It is replaceable.

Because I now clearly understand what is truly irreplaceable.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Forever 34

It’s been it’s a struggle to move forward from May 18, 2016.  That’s the day my world blew up.  It’s a day that is etched into my mind by grief and pain – the day my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.

I am blessed with a great group of family, friends and my Blue Family.  I’m learning how to live with only memories of Davey.

It’s not easy. It doesn’t feel right. The empty hole in my life is very evident.

But I have no other choice.

I thank God for no regrets and a ton of great memories.

Davey’s birthday is today, November 19th.  He would have been 43 years-old.  We had so much fun on his birthday every year!  His 20th birthday landed on a home Cardinals game – the early years of the Cardinals.  We all had a blast tailgating.  Beer pong was still an approved activity then so there were lots of ping pong balls flying everywhere.  Good times!

asu

November 19th is right before Thanksgiving so it always felt like Davey’s birthday extended into the holiday. He often had an ASU vs UofA Football Watch party the day after Thanksgiving if the big rivalry game was being not being played in town. If the game was in town he was usually tailgating somewhere close to the stadium.  Davey loved ASU and he loved the rivalry.  He graduated from ASU along with most of our family except we have one Wildcat…..and he loved to razz her about it …constantly 🙂

Everybody would come to Davey’s football parties and we would have a great time laughing and playing all day.  Cornhole.  Washers.  Watching the game.  Drinking some Coors Light.  

davey-square

 It’s hard now.  We miss him.  We miss his laugh and his joking and his big smile of delight when he was surrounded by his friends and family.

It’s been over 8 years since I’ve seen his smile in person. I have a re-occurring dream where I see Davey at a distance and I keep following him around trying to talk to him – trying to get him to smile at me. But I can never get close enough. Davey was shot in the back of his head and he has a big patch on his head in my dream. The first time I saw it (in my dream) I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then I realized that was where he was shot. Isn’t it crazy that my subconscious would add that to my dream?

Except for the patch, in my dream Davey looks just like he did in 2016. He looks just like this picture that was taken 2 months before he was killed.

My four special grand darlings are all growing taller and are physically changing a lot as they grown up. The rest of us are growing older with more gray hair and wrinkles and age spots.

But Davey will stay forever 34…..

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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I Want to Go Back

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I used to say I never wanted to go back to any time in my life. I was happy where I was. There was no time in the past that was better than today.

That has completely reversed.

Now I have times when I have a very strong desire to go back in time. I would gladly go back to anytime before my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.

So much was lost when he died. So much has changed. So many of my hopes and dreams for the future died with Davey.

Do you ever want to go back?

God speaks to me – and to you – today through Isaiah when he says, “Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up, do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43: 18-19.

God is doing a new thing in my life and in your’s. He wants our eyes to be focused on today and tomorrow. The past is past.

I have been watching God do an entirely new thing in my life since my son was killed. God has a very different plan than I had for the rest of my life and he is gradually revealing it, one step at a time. I could have never imagined this – it’s totally different than the plans I had.

God is making a way in the wilderness that defined my life after Davey died. He is leading me to streams which feed my soul. He is guiding me out of the wasteland of grief and pain where I found myself over 8 years ago.

The past is past. God wants my ‘now’ to count. He wants your ‘now’ to count.

He is doing a new thing.

Dream Snatcher

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It’s been over 8 years since my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer was killed in the line of duty. We have great memories of our lives with him.  We laughed, we played and we travelled.  We watched Davey play a lot of sports and we went to many games of all kinds in all different cities with him.

We have so many memories that bring big smiles to our faces.

But all of our dreams for the future with Davey have been snatched away.

Dreams of Davey coaching his son and daughter in baseball, basketball, volleyball and every other sport there is are gone.

Dreams of Davey retiring from the police force and going on to serve his community in other ways have disappeared.

Dreams of Davey and his son, Micah, playing a mean game of one-on-one basketball as Micah grew taller and taller, eventually passing up Davey have been shattered. I know that was Davey’s dream when he built a basketball court in his back yard.

Dreams of Davey walking his beautiful daughter, Eden, down the aisle have been ripped away.

I’ve lived 8 1/2 years without Davey and one of the hardest parts of surviving this tough, tough, journey are all of the dreams that have been snatched away.

All of the great times and fun with Davey that will never be.

It took almost 3 years for my memories of him to become more precious than painful. Now I am so grateful for all of the awesome times we had together.

But will be no more new memories with him.

That’s a very tough reality to deal with.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

_________________________________________________

If you are interested in reading more about my story, I have published a book on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love”. This book is about Davey’s death, life and my journey of finding hope after losing a child.

Nobody Knows

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Nobody knows what it’s like to be a parent who has lost a child unless its another parent who has lost a child.

My husband and I attended the COPS Parent Retreat last weekend. There were 189 parents there and all of them had lost a law enforcement son or daughter in the line of duty. All of these parents know the ongoing grief that happens when we lose a child. They have experienced the nightmare of that call and they have endured the initial shock of finding out their child was gone. I found tears rolling down my face several times during the weekend when I would see the large dining room or auditorium filled with parents who are going through the continuing pain of missing their child like I am.

When we looked into each other’s eyes while talking about our children, there was an instant ‘knowing’. There was an automatic understanding that just isn’t there when we’re talking to anyone else. This ‘instant relationship’ filled the parents retreat with love and compassion for one another. It was a safe place to cry and express our grief. It was also a safe place to have some fun and great food.

The local law enforcement agencies really showed up with helping us move into our rooms, then moving back out and providing an awesome BBQ dinner for us. They treated us like they would want their parents to be treated if anything ever happened to them.

Those of us who have been left behind are called ‘Survivors’. None of us had any idea how much ‘surviving’ was going to need to happen on this tough road of losing our child. We have to survive their birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and Christmas without them. Every year. We have to survive family gatherings where they are noticeably missing. Every year. Some of us have to survive the birthdays of our grandchildren – the children of our child who should be here, but they’re not. This happens every year.

In my case, my son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 19, 2016. He was our only son. So whenever other people talk about their sons, all I have are great memories and a hole. This hole is getting bigger every year as he misses more and more.

I was glad to hear how often our faith in God showed up in our conversations. God was the only thing that didn’t shake in my life when Davey was killed. He has been my Rock and I discovered that he was a Rock to many of the parents I talked with. He has been lovingly faithful to all of us through our tragedies.

Another topic that came up in our discussions are the Law Enforcement memorials that we attend. Every year. They are bittersweet. We are very happy that our son or daughter is being remembered and honored at these memorials. It feels good to know that their sacrifice is not forgotten.

The bitter part comes when these memorials bring back to the forefront all that we have lost. They remind us of all the plans and dreams we had for our child and how our child had a starring role in many of our own plans and dreams. All of that has exploded and disappeared. It’s all gone. The moan of the bagpipes which are often centerstage at a Law Enforcement Memorial are a painful reminder of how long and how hard this journey of surviving the death of our child is.

Added to our loss is the fact that our child had been serving their community when they were killed. They were helping to put the evil in our communities behind bars and they were working tirelessly to help make our neighborhoods a safe place for us and our families to live. They were part of the ‘good guys’ in this world and now they are gone.

We have all lost so much.

No one knows that better than the parents of a fallen Law Enforcement Officer.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

The Pain of Permanence

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 all 3 of my brothers. I’m the last one standing of my immediate family.

But this was not the same.  Not even close.  And I can’t even explain how much worse Davey’s death has been compared to other deaths in my family.

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 8 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 where 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, 8 years later, it’s clear that we will never go back.

That time, that place is gone. My life – our life – back there is gone. Everything has changed.

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. Just last week I was talking with a woman who was helping me in a store and she said something that reminded me of Davey. Tears rolled down my face as I said thank you and left. I’m sure she wondered what that was all about.

I’m gradually getting used to my life without Davey but this broken heart is not going away and it’s not invisible. In some ways, each new year gets more difficult –

because of the pain of permanence.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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They Were Wrong

They were very wrong.

I cannot tell you how many people told me “The first year is the hardest” after my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

They were all wrong.

I had already lost my mom and my dad and my oldest brother at that point along with all of my grandparents and all of my aunts and uncles….and yes, with those deaths, the first year was the hardest.

But it has not been true with the death of my son.  The first year was the most confusing and unpredictable and foggy.  But each year since then, the hole in my life has grown and all I have lost keeps accumulating as Davey continues to miss his children growing up, he misses getting to know new little members of our family, and misses Christmases and birthdays and Mother’s Days.  Every year there is more.

I have spent the last 8 1/2 years getting used to the growing hole and the lengthening list of things I have lost.  But it’s not easier.

I think the big difference between my older loved ones dying and Davey being killed is I had expected that there would be a time in my life where my father and mother and older brother and others would not be here.  That is the correct order.  It was going to happen.

But Davey was always supposed to be here.  Every thought of my future included him.  Pictures in my mind of me growing old all included Davey and his smile.  Every future celebration, every milestone, every fun family get together and trip included Davey.  Now he’s not here…….and all that I have lost grows.

I was never supposed to have to go to Davey’s funeral. He was supposed to go to mine.

So, do me a favor.  Don’t tell a parent who has lost a child that the first year is the hardest.

It’s not true.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you💙💙

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