Let’s Raise a Toast

Davey was always figuring out how to get a bunch of his friends together and have a good time.  He loved people – all kinds of people.  Unlike a lot of guys, he had a lot of friends and he kept in touch with them. He was the type of guy that would start talking to people while he’s waiting in the concession line behind them, and, by the time his turn came up, they would all be following each other on social media.  He was always aware of other people who didn’t seem to have friends and he would invite them to join his group. Several of you reading this probably experienced this.

David Glasser, my son, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  His death had a big impact on our city because his life had a big impact on our city.  People from all over the city had met him and knew him.  Many of those were police officers and there were also large groups of people who knew him because he was a massive fan of the Cardinals and all ASU sports.  There were other sports fans who got to know him on social media and then became his friend.  He was born and raised in Phoenix so he had old friends all over the valley whom he kept in touch with.

I love to tell stories that give you an insight into his unique personality and personal style.  As you can imagine, Davey liked to have people over and have a good time.  So he needed a beer frig, right?  He always said beer was supposed to be kept cold – you shouldn’t have it sitting in your pantry or garage.  It just didn’t taste right unless it went from the store refrigerator to your refrigerator.

I kept hearing about his beer frig when I would visit Davey and Kristen after they were married.  I assumed it was an extra refrigerator stashed somewhere – I don’t usually drink beer so I never used it.

They built a house in Goodyear and I still heard about this beer frig.  I never really looked for it until one hot summer day when we were visiting Davey and Kristen, I decided I wanted a beer.  And Davey said they were all in the beer frig.  So I went out to the garage to look for this beer frig.  I had never seen it but I had never actually looked for it.

There was no beer frig in the garage.  So I came back in and asked where the beer frig was and my husband told me it was in one of the extra bedrooms.  I had not had any reason to go in there so I had never seen it.  I thought it was a little strange to have a refrigerator in a bedroom but, they had two extra bedrooms at that time so it made some sense.

I checked out both extra rooms and I didn’t see any refrigerator.  Now I’m wondering if they had been playing a joke on me all of these years, just waiting for me to take the bait. (This was just like Davey)  Maybe the ‘beer frig’ was actually the back shelf of their refrigerator or something.

I was growing a little perturbed at this point – getting a beer shouldn’t be this hard.  So I walked out and said, “Where exactly is this beer frig?”  My husband walked me back to one of the bedrooms and pointed to a brown box on the floor next to a pile of other stuff.  He opened the door of the tiny brown refrigerator and grabbed a beer for me.

I couldn’t stop laughing!

Davey had saved his teeny refrigerator from college days and that was the famous beer frig I had been hearing about for so many years!

Davey loved a good deal.  He was always using coupons and discounts and figuring out how to save a buck.  He used a coupon at the restaurant he and his date went to for Senior Prom.  He would buy Fry’s gift cards and then use them for his own groceries so that he’d get the double points for gas.  He had a coupon on every trip he made to Home Depot.

We now have Davey’s beer frig in our basement next to our wet bar.  We had friends over last weekend and they had a good laugh when they saw our ‘beer frig’. It’s over 25 years-old and its still working. Davey would smile if he saw how it is stuffed full of beer and in need of being defrosted – just like the old days. That small brown box brings back many good memories of an amazing young man who loved people – and who made good use of his tiny college refrigerator.

So, remember to raise a toast the next time you pop open a brew in memory of a great man, a loving son, a dedicated police officer and an awesome friend!

Miss you, Davey.

Love you!

The Bomb

A bomb exploded in my life on May 18, 2016.

My plans were made.  I was on a course for my life that had my son’s smile and laughter plastered all over it.

And then the bomb went off – sending my life onto a whole new trajectory.  My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on Mary 18, 2016.

That day my life was thrown onto a path I never wanted to be on.  None of my former plans fit the journey I am on now.

I know I’m not alone.  There is a large group of us who were loving life with Davey when the bomb went off.  And now we find ourselves in this other world…..which is  darker….and has an obvious empty space,

Don’t tell me time heals all wounds.  This mother’s heart is broken and its not healing this side of heaven.

But….

here I am……

  • Putting Davey’s memorial bracelet on my wrist every morning – missing him, surprised that it’s been over 6 years since he was killed.  It feels like yesterday.  Except so much has changed. 
    • Everything has changed.
  • Blue has become my favorite color because it reminds me of Davey’s commitment to be a great police officer.  Many of my house decorations are now blue, my toenails are often blue and I’ve changed my Christmas decorations to mainly blue.
  • I’ve been retired for over 5 years and my retirement looks drastically different than I thought it was going to look 6 years ago.  It’s like I stepped into a different world, a place I would never have chosen.

About 6 months after Davey was killed, I was shopping and saw a small plate with ‘Embrace the Journey’ written on it.  I stood in that store in front of this plate for a long time.

Thinking……..

About the tragedy that had smashed my life and  the lives of so many people I love.

Thinking about the pain and the grief and the tears.

Now, 6 years later, I think about the awful road we have had to travel.  Parts of it have been straight uphill …. but we have traveled it together.

The last words Davey said to all of us were “Love you”.

I think about how that love has drastically changed this journey.

I have learned a lot about loving other people in these last 6 years.  I have learned a lot about what’s really important – and what’s not.  My heart has grown bigger as I reached out in love to the people moving forward with me on this very bumpy road.

It is definitely a journey. 

I am so glad that, standing in the store 6 years ago, I decided to ‘Embrace the Journey’.  God has placed me on this extremely tough road for a purpose.  He has walked closely beside me so far and I know he will give me strength and peace the rest of the way.

Of course I bought the dish.  At the end of each day, I place my wedding ring next to Davey’s memorial bracelet on it. My wedding ring changed after Davey was killed, too.  I added blue sapphires to it. 

Fallen but never forgotten.

Looking back, some days have been harder than others depending on the roller coaster of emotions the events of the day contained.  Sweet memories.  Sad losses.  One day might have many ups and downs and then the next is filled with gratitude for 34 years with Davey.  Each day I am reminded of my commitment to Embrace this Journey.

One day at a time.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Choose a Path

When tragedy strikes, we are forced to choose a path.

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.

When the sun came up on May 19, 2016 and Davey was dead, I had a decision to make.

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 worth it.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

The Hard Truth

I love all the blessings God has showered down on me. I cherish all of the great people God has brought into my life. I appreciate all the awesome things God has given me to enjoy on this earth.

It’s so easy to be happy and praise God when I focus on all of the good things in my life.

But how do I react when something bad happens in my life? The book of Job in the Bible is a great one to study when devastation shakes up our world.

After Satan kills all of Job’s children, Job responds with “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away: may the name of the LORD be praised.” Job 1:21 – 22.

Hard, hard truth. All of us at sometime experience ‘the LORD gave and the LORD has taken away’ part of this truth. I didn’t know how horrible this could be until my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016. God gave me Davey for 34 1/2 precious years….

and then God took him away.

A tragedy. A huge loss that filled my world with grief and pain. It has been a tsunami that continues to smash dreams I had and crush hopes of what my future with Davey in my life was going to look like.

I don’t like it. I don’t understand it. God and I have had many conversations about it and I have come to one conclusion.

I submit. I submit to God’s will. I submit to his purpose. I will never like it, and I probably will never understand it. So I submit.

God is perfect. He is good, all the time. He wants the best for me. He is working all things out for my good. When I filter all of my circumstances through these truths, God gives me peace and the strength to face a future here on earth without Davey.

The LORD gives and he takes away.

May the name of the LORD be praised.

I Changed My Mind

Now I want to go back.

In the past, whenever I would be talking with people who were saying that they’d like to go back to being 16 or 21 or 39, I would always say I didn’t want to go back.  Each age has its benefits and trials.  Each phase of my life has had its rewards and challenges.  I have never wanted to go back to redo or un-do things.

But I have changed my mind  Now I want to go back – to any time before Davey was killed.   I would go through all the pain and grief since May 18, 2016 when he was killed in the line of duty again if I could go back to relive my last hour with Davey.  Or just the last 10 minutes.  It would be worth it to see his smile one more time. 

I just want to hear him laugh.

This picture of Davey was taken at his home about a month before he was killed.  I am so glad we took a bunch of family photos with him that day – they are all extremely precious to me. 

When I got to his house that day, he had on some old, ragged, weird-colored clothes and he casually mentioned he was ready for the pictures.  He knew I always tried to do a little color coordinating when we took family photos and he probably put on his crazy clothes just to get a response from me.  I’ll never forget –  I gave him my ‘mom look’ and he laughed.  I knew he was joking so I didn’t have to say anything.  He changed his clothes without another word said – I’m sure he had it all planned what he was really going to wear.  He just liked to joke around and have fun. 

I really miss that.

I want to go back.  I would not  un-do anything – I just want to do it again.

But I know I can’t go back.  And in a group of people who are talking about going back, I probably wouldn’t bring this up because it hits the empty hole in my heart.  The hole that hurts.  The hole that makes it hard to smile sometimes.  It’s the hole that aches as I watch his children play sports – he would have been so proud of them.  He would have been spending a lot of time practicing with them and helping them improve – he was a great coach.

It’s the hole that aches on his birthday, his children’s birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving – any time that families get together. He’s missing. He will always be missing.

My head knows I can’t go back but my heart wants to.

My head knows that the only direction I can go is forward. 

Seeing all of the good things happening with the David Glasser Foundation as it continues Davey’s legacy of love has made moving forward easier.  Witnessing the great things taking place through the efforts of everyone who volunteers for the foundation and supports the foundation brings a purpose and light into my life.  Seeing kids’ lives being positively changed because of the work of the foundation brings joy.

Watching God pick up the pieces of my shattered life and put them together in new and interesting ways has made struggling to move forward worth it. God has a purpose for it all and a plan to make something good come out of the devastation Davey’s death caused in my life. Moving forward with my eyes focused on God is the only way I’m going to see that plan happen.

But I would still go back…

in a heartbeat.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

He’s Not Here…

but he’s not gone.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

He’s not here but he continues to live on in the lives of the people he touched.  And he touched a lot of people.

Davey loved people.  He loved talking to people and people were drawn to him because of it.  He was a collector of friends and he had a lot of them – from all over the city.  I’ve seen him get in a long line at the concession stand at one of the many sports games he attended and, by the time he got up to the order window, he had made a new friend of the guy in front of him or in back of him in line.  That guy would show up at the next Cardinal’s tailgate party and be automatically accepted into the crowd of Davey’s buddies.

Davey’s love and acceptance changed us.  We belonged when we were with him.  It was a special gift he had that sprang from his general love for people.

His influence on our lives is far from gone.  His “love you’ echoes in our ears, reminding us to love others every day of our lives – even people we don’t know.  I love this picture of a sign someone made –

It has been challenging me to figure out how show more love to people I don’t know –

On freeways – letting cars enter ahead of me even if I have to slow down to make that happen.

Grocery stores –  checking the people behind me to see if they have significantly less items that I do so I can let them go ahead of me.  I’ve also started letting moms with a ton of kids go ahead of me knowing that waiting in line with all those kids is not a fun thing to do.

Doors – I’ve become more aware of people behind me going in and out of doors so I can hold the door for them.

Smiles – I make sure to say ‘hi” to people who are looking at me as we pass. Maybe that little bit of recognition will bring some light into their world today.

Prayers – I pray for people I pass whose cars are broken down on the side of road.  I pray for the police officers and people involved when I see an accident.  I pray for the people who are in the ambulance with its lights on as it passes me.

This world can be a very lonely place.  I live in a 55+ community where I know some of the people I meet in the morning as I walk my dog, Bella, have lost their significant other.  After their walk, they go home to a very quiet place where they miss the joy and companionship they used to have.  So I always smile and wave and say good morning. It may just be the small spark of “I see you” that person needs. 

Many of the people in my community have the habit of waving at everyone. As you walk by, as you drive by – they throw up a wave. At first this seems like a strange thing in this world where people don’t even look at each other but then it begins to feel good, like ‘you are included’. You are part of this community, so you get a wave, even when they don’t actually know you. And so you start waving back. I like it! If you want to start showing love and care to people you don’t know in your neighborhood, start waving at them….and watch them start to wave back.

As a police officer, Davey showed love and care for people he didn’t know all day, every day.  This is what police officers do.  Davey also did this in his personal life, role-modeling for us how to love people even when we don’t know them.

Davey’s not here, but he’s not gone.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Don’t Say It

Death.  Loss.  Serious illness.  Tragedy.

When it happens to someone we know, we often don’t know what to say.   We need to say something – it has to be acknowledged or it feels really wrong – the elephant in the room.

We should think about what we’re going to say ahead of time.

I know.  Many people have said weird or not-helpful things while trying to be nice to me since my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

When tragedy blew my life apart, many of the people I spoke to afterwards would say ‘So sorry for your loss.”  I used to think that this sounded unoriginal and trite but, after experiencing some of the other things people say, I realize it’s a good option.  When you say this, you are recognizing my loss and sharing an emotion.   I say it myself now.   Actually, I often just say “I’m so sorry” to someone who has just had a loss or tragedy.  They know what I’m referring to – it’s all they can think about. If I knew the person who died, I also add a short, personal memory. Those are great if they are quick and positive.

There are other things people say which actually hurt – they poked at my bruises. Now, 6 years later, none of these bother me. But, early on, saying things like these often made my dark day worse:

“There’s always a reason.”  Really?   Am I supposed to be glad he’s gone because there’s ‘a reason’?  I should stop crying because this is supposed to make me feel better?

“Time heals all wounds.” Really?  All of this pain and grief is going to go away?   It’s going to turn into a scar that doesn’t hurt anymore?  I  don’t think so.

“He’s in a better place.”  My head knows that.  My heart has been shattered into a million pieces and it aches a little bit more when you remind me that he’s not here with us, with me.

What should we say?

The best advice I have read is in the Bible – Romans 12:15 –

“Weep with those who weep”.

Weep with us.

Weep with me.

Let your heart break for those who are heart-broken.

Hold tightly onto anyone is who is lost in pain and grief.

Give us grace when we are not gracious.

Forgive us when the anger boils over.

Be patient with us when our frustration shows.

Understand that it’s hard to focus sometimes when the emptiness is overwhelming.

Don’t ask us to let you know if there’s anything you can do – if there’s something you want to do, just do it.

Don’t tell us about a different tragedy – your’s or someone else’s.  We are struggling to deal with our own.

Don’t give us advice unless we ask for it.

You really don’t have to say much.

Just love us unconditionally, no matter how we respond.

And weep with us.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

He’s Missing

It’s a constant issue.

Somebody is missing.

A tall somebody who was always adding a lot of fun and laughs to whatever was going on – he’s no longer here.

A man of faith whose integrity and character clearly showed through the decisions he made in his life – he’s missing.

There’s a hole in our lives that will never be filled.

Sometimes people use the word ‘healing’ when they’re talking to me about the death of my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police officer killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

I can’t relate to the word ‘healing’.  There’s a hole. After 6 years I have realized there is always going to be a hole.  It’s not going to ‘heal’ over into a scar and fade away.  Not in this lifetime. Not on this side of heaven.

Yesterday, I talked to my oldest grand darlings, Davey’s son and daughter, about going back to school again after their summer break and I couldn’t help thinking about how proud Davey would have been of how well they are both doing in school.  He loved learning – he was a fast thinker and very strategic.  He had a double major in college of Psychology and Criminal Justice.

 I will never forget a conversation we had when he was studying juvenile delinquency. He told me that a working mother was the highest indicator that a kid would become a juvenile delinquent.   Because I had been working full-time getting my Bachelor’s degree and then going right into my career since before he was born, I thought this was very interesting.

 So I asked him with a smile, “Well, what happened to you?”

That led to a in-depth discussion about how it’s not the mother’s working that’s the issue – it’s the values and faith and priorities of those mothers along with the fathers that has the biggest influence on the success of a child.

Davey told me many times how frustrated he was with the fact that many parents today use the police as the bad guys with their children.  

“If you don’t behave, the police will come and arrest you.”

 Really?  What happened to parents disciplining their own children and teaching their children to respect authority and the rules?  Is it just easier to wait until they are 15 or 16 years-old and let the police handle it?  

Policemen spend a lot of time parenting kids whose parents don’t do it.

The life of a cop.

He was a great cop….and he is missed.

He was a great son and brother…and he is missed.

He was a great husband and father….and he is missed.

He was a great friend and coworker….and he is missed.

There’s always going to be a 6’5″ hole in my life.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

What’s Under It?

May 18, 2016 seemed just like any other day.

And then I received the call that my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, had been shot.  Before the night ended, he was gone.

I felt like the rug of my life was completely pulled out from under my feet.  Nothing was what it was before.  My husband and I lived a mile away from Davey and his family and Davey was my husband’s best friend so there was daily interactions and conversations.

But now Davey was gone.

And the ‘rug’ was gone.

The ‘rug’ includes all of the material and superficial stuff in my life – the things that seemed to matter so much until I was hit with this tragedy.  When something horrible like this happens, none of that means anything anymore.  It’s all very trivial.

The ‘rug’  was not going to help me survive. The ‘rug’ was not important enough to get me out of bed in the morning after Davey died.  All of that ‘stuff’ was not motivating enough to make me to look up out of my grief and try to move forward.

When the ‘rug’ is gone, it exposes what is under it.

What is really important?

What’s left?

What do I say and how do I act when my whole world is shaking and crumbling around me?  What kind of character have I developed?

The real question is – how solid is the foundation under the ‘rug’?  What have I  been building my life on?

If you’ve experienced a tragedy in your life, you have had no choice – you had to answer these questions.  All of the people who love someone whose name is on the National Peace Officer Memorial in Washington, DC (below) have had to answer these questions.   

I have had to answer these questions.

The good news is that my foundation held.  It didn’t crack – it never shook.

My life is built on a relationship with my Father God who was and is and will always be.  He never leaves my side.  He fills my soul with his perfect love, giving me peace and strength for each day of this very tough journey of surviving the death of a child. 

God has already won the war that is being waged here on earth.  We know how this story ends.

But I still have a purpose to complete – a piece of his plan to accomplish.  And then he will take me home – where Davey is.

The ‘rug’ disappeared but God never moved.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Exiled

You may heard this famous verse from Jeremiah, “For I know the plans I have for you, ” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” 29:11.

What an awesome promise!  We love to print it on plaques and hang it on our walls.

But did you realize that this promise was originally made to the Israelites who had been exiled by God to Babylon?  God let the King of Babylon capture Jerusalem and take the Israelites away from their homes.  Right before his promise concerning his good plans for them, God told Israel through Jeremiah that they would be in exile for 70 years.

70 years.

This meant that many of them would die in Babylon – never going back to Jerusalem. The Israelites had been ripped away from the homes they had expected to live in for the rest of their lives.  They were now living in a foreign land – exiled – and many of them would die far from their home in Jerusalem.

Do you ever feel like you have been exiled?

I have.

I do.

The life I expected to live was suddenly snatched away from me when my son, David Glasser, was killed in the line of duty six years ago.  My world has changed so drastically that sometimes it feels like I am now living in a foreign land.  I’m exiled far from what I thought the rest of my life was going to look like before Davey died.

And today, God is saying to me – and maybe to you – that I will continue to live in this foreign place until he comes to take me home.  While I’m here, he has plans for me.  He is giving me hope and a purpose.

After his initial famous promise in Jeremiah, God gives us more promises.  He tells us that when we pray, he will listen.  When we diligently look for him, we will find him.

I know God always keeps his promises – that’s a fact.  I have discovered that reading his Word, absorbing what he is saying to me and growing my trust in him gives me the strength and peace I need for each day as I live out the rest of my days…

here in exile.