No Word

There is no word for losing a child. A child who loses their parents is an orphan. A husband who loses his wife is a widower.

But there is no word for a parent who loses a child. Maybe that’s because the pain is indescribable. It’s so wrong. It’s not supposed to happen.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016 and my life blew up. All of my hopes and dreams were ripped away because Davey played a part in all of them.

Parents like me have to piece our lives back together around a big hole after losing a child. It’s very hard to do. It’s a daily struggle for a long time – years – to develop new habits. It doesn’t feel right because rebuilding a life without our child feels like we are leaving a very important part of us behind.

God is the one who helped me figure out how to move forward, bringing Davey with me. Davey still has a significantly positive role in the life I have built these last 9 1/2 years since his death.

The David Glasser Foundation has played a big part in helping all of us take Davey with us as we move forward. Through the foundation, we get to complete some of the work that Davey would have done if he was still here and that feels very good.

Hosting a Law Enforcement Memorial Day community gathering at our house every year helps my husband and I take Davey with us. Davey loved to play cornhole so getting out the boards reminds us of many good times throwing some bags with him.

Writing a book about Davey’s life, his death and my journey to find hope after losing a child has helped me include Davey in the life I have pieced together since his death. Writing this blog has helped.

I have shared with you that I put together family picture albums each year and Davey always shows up in those.

Davey left a legacy of love when he taught us to say ‘love you’ instead of good-bye. Now, every time I say it or write it, it feels like Davey is standing right next to me with a smile on his face.

Not every parent who has a lost a child needs to start a foundation or write a book. Each of us has to figure out how this works for us. Some people create traditions for the birthday of the child they lost or start a scholarship for something that was significant in their child’s life.

There is no word that describes the reality of being a parent who has lost a child….

but taking them with us as we move forward honors their lives and gives us a purpose again.

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 precious memories.

Davey’s birthday is this week, November 19th.  He would have been 44 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

Davey’s birthday is right before Thanksgiving so it always felt like his 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 9 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, wrinkles, and age spots.

But Davey will stay forever 34…..

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

It’s A Gift

The gift of clarity.

My world blew up on May 18, 2016 when my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.  My hopes and dreams crumbled into a pile of painful pieces and everything changed.

Nothing has been the same since that day.  So much grief, so many tears, such a huge hole.

But, as so many things were lost and stripped away, one thing became crystal clear.

My time on earth is very short.  I am not guaranteed tomorrow.  The people I love may not be here tomorrow.

I need to have my priorities straight.  I need to understand what is most important and make sure I’m living to make the most of each day.

The gift of clarity.

God comes first.  He is my Rock and his love for me is the only thing that didn’t shake on May 18, 2016.  He has been my constant companion as hurt and grief and change have turned my life upside these last 9 1/2 years. I have learned that I don’t need to understand everything, I just need to trust God.  He’s got this.

Next priority –  loving other people.  God tells us to love him and to love others for a reason.  God and people are the only things that really count.  All the other things – money, success, houses, stuff – is temporary and just not that important.   People are important.

Love is important.  Davey’s legacy of ‘Love you’ has drastically changed my life since he was killed – saying it to others and having it said to me.  Before Davey’s death my ‘love you’s’ were reserved for only those closest to me.  After his death, I realized that its important to love all of the people around me and they need to hear to it.  So I speak love a thousand times more I ever did before.  I say it and write it to crowds of people who would have never heard those words from me.  And I mean it.  I want the best for you.  I care about you.  I want to contribute to the love in your world because you’re important.

Hearing ‘love you’ from so many of you has been a game-changer for me.  I didn’t realize how much of a difference it has made until I went to Washington, DC for Police Week the year after Davey was killed and met with a group of other mothers whose sons had been killed in the line of duty the year before. We all shared the extreme loss and grief of losing a child.  But I never experienced the dark and hostile place filled with anger and bitterness that many of them were in.  I’m very glad about that – it was hard to even be in the same room with all of it.  I give thanks to God for helping me avoid that negativity and I also give a lot of credit to ‘Love you”.

It’s hard to be negative when you’re surrounded by love.

It’s hard to be bitter when people all around are hugging you and saying ‘love you’.

It’s hard to be angry when every ‘love you’ reminds you of a very special person who also loved you.

I am so grateful that Davey gave us ‘Love you”.  It’s a God thing – God knew it would help us not only survive this tragedy but also move forward in a positive direction, taking Davey with us.  We have loved each other well and it has changed everything.

The gift of clarity.

What is important?

What should I spend my time doing?

What should I spend my money doing?

I am sharing this gift of clarity with you today because today may be my last day.  It may be your’s.

Let’s spend it wisely.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you!

 

 

 

It’s a Sign

It’s a sign that one man who cared can make a difference.

It’s a sign that David Glasser’s legacy of love is destined to have a permanent effect on the kids who live in Laveen….and beyond.

David Glasser, my son, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 19, 2016 in Laveen, Arizona.  He loved being a police officer and he committed his life to helping make the streets of Phoenix a safer place for you and I to live.  He wanted to make a difference by working as one of the good guys, making our communities safer for our kids to play in.  He asked to work in the highest risk areas of Phoenix in order to protect you and me from the dangerous people who prowl the streets of those neighborhoods.

Everyone who drives by this plaque in Laveen is reminded of the day that the City of Phoenix lost a hero. A couple of months after the first sign went up, the 2d sign was added to the post. Someone saw it and sent me this picture. Love it!

A year after he was killed, the Laveen Elementary School District decided to honor Davey and his memory by naming the athletic field they were building after him.  What a great idea!  Davey loved sports – all of them.  He was a huge fan of the Cardinals, the Diamondbacks and all of the ASU sports teams. Whenever the Cardinals would have a tough year and attendance at their games would go down, Davey would talk loud and long about ‘fair weather fans’.  Loyalty was a huge issue for Davey.

Davey played baseball and basketball, focusing on basketball as he got into high school and onto the varsity team.  He knew a lot about sports and planned to become a coach after he retired from the police department.  That’s one of the many dreams which will never come true.

But Davey never dreamed that an athletic complex would be named after him.  And that has come true.  Here’s the sign:

It’s a beautiful complex at 5001 West Dobbins Road in Laveen.  Stop in sometime and take a look.

There is not a more appropriate way to honor Davey than by naming a sports complex after him.  And there is no better place for it than in the middle of the community he died serving.  Kids playing sports on these fields for many years to come will be reminded of a Police Officer who cared enough to work hard in their community to help keep them safe.  His love for his community lives on here at these fields.

It’s a sign that one man who cared can make a difference.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

You Need to Write a Letter

In fact, you probably need to write several letters.

These letters are for the people you love most so they can have something tangible to hold and read and read again after you aren’t here anymore.

These letters might be full of things you have already told them.  Or you may be able to write some things that you’ve never been able to say or haven’t said in a long time.  There might be some specific encouragements that you want to share with them knowing that they are grieving your loss as they read this letter.

Our soldiers who are going off to war or being deployed to dangerous foreign countries have always been pretty good at doing this.  It’s a normal thing that they are encouraged and reminded to write letters before they leave.

It’s not so true for our brothers and sisters in Blue.  I guess it’s just a more obvious thing to do when you’re getting on a plane to Iraq than it is when you’re getting into your car to go to the precinct.

But the danger is just as real.  If we weren’t super-aware of the danger before, losing David Glasser, my son who was a Phoenix Police Officer killed in the line of duty in 2016, opened my eyes to how easy it is for someone to leave their house in the morning and never come back.

Davey didn’t leave any letters.  I wish he had.   I would have loved to have a final letter from him to hold…and read….and hold.  I have his last Mother’s Day card to me framed on my dresser.  It’s an awesome last message and I will treasure it for the rest of my life.

We know he loved us.  We know what he would say about a lot of things that have happened since his death.  But to have something tangible……knowing he knew we would be reading it if he didn’t come back one day.  That would have been very special.

So – Blue Family – we need to write some letters.  All of us.  Because none of us are promised tomorrow.

I wrote my letters the year after Davey was killed. They aren’t easy to write – I used a lot of tissues – but I got them done and safely tucked away in our personal safe at home. They are ready for whenever that time comes.

Next year it will be 10 years since Davey left us and I’m planning to write another set of letters and add them to the pile. I want those I love to have this final gift from me…

to read…

and hold…

and read again.

How about you?  Have you written your letters yet?

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

 

 

He’s Missing

It’s a constant issue.

Somebody is missing.

It’s a tall somebody who was always adding a lot of fun and laughs to whatever was going on.

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

He’s missing right this instant as November looms in front of us. My son, David Glasser’s birthday. He’s missing it …. again.

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

Sometimes people use the word ‘heal’ when they’re talking to me about Davey being killed in the line of duty and I can’t relate.  There’s a hole.  It’s not going to heal over into a scar and fade away.  Not in this lifetime.

So we’re figuring how to move forward with the hole. 

My grandson, Davey’s son, is in high school now. He was 5 when Davey was killed. Micah is doing great in school and Davey would be so proud of him. Davey loved learning and figuring things out.  He had a double major in college of Psychology and Criminal Justice.  I will never forget when he was studying juvenile delinquency – he told me that a working mother was the highest indicator that a kid would become a delinquent.   I had been working full-time since before he was born and I thought his comment was very interesting.  So I asked him with a smile, “Well, what happened to you?”

That led to a in-depth conversation about how it’s not mothers working that’s the issue – it’s the faith and values and priorities of those mothers along with the fathers that has the biggest influence on the 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 children and parents teaching their children to respect authority and the rules?  Is it just easier to wait until they are 15 or 16 and let the police handle it? Police officers spend a lot of time parenting kids whose parents aren’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 squad member….and he is missed.

There’s always going to be a hole because he’s not here.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

 

 

It’s Not Stopping

I have lost so much. And it doesn’t stop.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016. When Davey died, he took all of my plans and dreams for the rest of my life with him. He was included in all of them and a central character in many.

They were all ripped away. I’ve been on a journey of creating revised plans and dreams these last 9 years. It hasn’t been easy. It’s nothing I wanted to do but it needed to be done. God has a purpose for why I am still here so I move forward, one painful step at a time.

My daughter, Katie, and I went to Rome together a couple of years ago and got on a cruise ship that toured the Greek Isles. It was fun and we made a boatload (pun intended) of new, precious memories.

But my heart broke a little more every time I thought about the last time we were in Rome – Davey had been with us. Almost 20 years ago, my whole family toured Italy for 2 1/2 weeks. That family is no longer whole because we’re missing a main person – Davey.

We just keep losing.

That’s what so different when a child dies . Davey should be here – right now. I was not supposed to go to his funeral, he was supposed to go to mine. He would have been a part of everything that has happened the last 9 years. He should have had a part of everything that will happen in my life until I leave this planet.

It’s a very tough journey. If you are interested in reading more of my story, I published a book awhile back on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love.” Or you can send a message and I’ll mail a signed copy to you.

Sometimes its hard to keep a positive attitude about tomorrow knowing that I’m just going to keep losing what should have been. I’m getting used to life without Davey but I don’t like it. I’m getting used to losing more every year –

but I don’t like it.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

When the Answer is No

I asked.

I begged.

The night after Davey was shot I went down to the hospital chapel all by myself.  I walked up to the altar and laid facedown on the cold tile.   And I begged God for a miracle. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Davey needed a miracle in order to stay alive.

So I begged.  I have no idea how long I laid there, pleading with God.

At this same time, my husband, Dave, was walking up and down the crowded hallway outside of Davey’s hospital room, asking everyone to pray for a miracle.

There were also three waiting rooms downstairs filled with people – many of them praying with us, asking for a miracle.

Every hospital hallway I walked down was filled with people – most of them praying with us, asking for a miracle.

In my mind, I see a huge hand reaching up out of the roof of the hospital, stretching up to heaven, asking our God who holds life and death in his hands to reach down and touch Davey.

We asked.

We begged.

Hours later we received our answer.

And the answer was no.

No more smiles and jokes from Davey.

No more fun and games with Davey.

No to watching my grandchildren grow up with their father’s arms around them.

No to watching Davey and Kristen grow old together.

So many no’s.

There’s a reason why we all listened to Hilary Scott sing “Thy Will” at Davey’s funeral.  We asked for a miracle for Davey and God said no.  He has a different plan than we do.

Every day I am reminded that God has a very different plan than mine.  Standing on the rock of God’s love and trusting that he has many great tomorrows waiting for me, I move forward……

– not happy about the reality that I now live in without Davey.

– not understanding why we all have to travel this path without Davey.

I go on, taking my broken heart with me. I am listening and watching as God creates a new future from the ashes of the life I had before Davey was killed. This future is extremely different than the one I expected…..

because God said no.

He Had Plans

He was going to retire from the Phoenix Police Force after 20 years, get his teaching certificate and coach basketball while teaching at the high school level.

David Glasser, my son who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016, would have been a great teacher.

And he would have been an even better coach.  He not only loved sports – he understood the complexities and reality of playing them.

But – none of it is going to happen.  This is one of the most painful parts of the tragedy of his death – all of these dreams have been snatched away.  There is a long list of plans and fun and awesome experiences – which we’re not going to have.

This is definitely a hot button of grief in my life.  His plans.  He was going to continue to work and give and sacrifice for the good of our community.  Davey would have positively touched hundreds of kids and their families’ lives in high school with his unique combination of fun, integrity and faith.  The stories and the accomplishments would have just kept coming.

Because that’s who he was.

I think this is one of the places that hurts the worst when your child dies – all of the things that were going to happen and should have happened, just aren’t going to happen.  All the potential.  All the possibilities.  Gone.

For me, this part has been much more difficult than with other deaths I have experienced.  I was very close to my mother and I miss her a lot.  When she passed away at 84 years-old, she had lived a full and faithful life.  She assured us she was ready to go ‘home’.

Davey’s death is so very different.

This is much harder.

The hole doesn’t go away.

The lost dreams come back to haunt me.  They remind me of who is missing in my life.

One of the ways we are reclaiming some of those lost plans is through the David Glasser Foundation.  With God’s help, we are continuing the work which Davey started. We hold a Shop with a Cop event every Christmas making sure some of the families in Laveen that financially can not afford any gifts will have some to open. Laveen is where Davey was killed.

The David Glasser Foundation also sponsors youth sports team throughout the Phoenix Metropolitan area. All of these teams have law enforcement officers as volunteers and coaches. This gives kids and their families an opportunity to have positive relationships with police officers.

Some of Davey’s plans are also being accomplished at the David Glasser Athletic Complex in Laveen. We broke ground several years ago.  There are 2 baseball fields at this location and a football field. It has become a hub for the families in Laveen to gather and for the kids to play sports. Thank you to the Laveen Elementary School District for honoring Davey this way! He would have loved it.

Davey’s grandfather passed away 2 weeks before Davey died and his grandfather has a baseball field in Pennsylvania named after him.  Davey was very proud of this and he visited the field every time he could making sure his son, Micah, got to see it, too. He would be very proud to see his own name on a sports complex.

So breaking ground on the athletic complex and starting a foundation with his name on it revived some of the dreams Davey had:

  • dreams of kids learning perseverance, respect, accountability, teamwork and responsibility through sports which can prepare them to become positive adult contributors to their community.
  • dreams of kids being coached well, giving them a good role model so they can identify the ‘good guys’ and want to be a part of the solution in our culture.

Breaking ground.  It’s a good term.  Once the ground is broken, there is no putting it back exactly like it was.  Broken ground becomes something else.   And this broken ground has become the David Glasser Athletic Complex filled with lots of potential and possibilities.

New dreams fulfilling old dreams.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

It Has Been Decided

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016. His official EOW date is May 19th but, if you had seen him in the hospital bed like I did, you would know that the awesome son, brother, husband, father, friend and police officer we all knew and loved was already gone.

These last 9 years have been the most difficult and painful time of my life.

One of the ways God has comforted me is through this truth – ” A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.” Job 14:5.

God has already decided which day will be the last day of your life here on earth and mine.

Knowing this helped me let go of my mother when she passed away 21 years ago.  We had a very close relationship and she was my role-model for how a Christian woman lives her life faithful to God – all the way to her last breath here on earth.  I realized, if God wanted her in heaven with him, then that’s what I wanted for her. 

She was an awesome grandmother to my children and this picture of her with Davey brings back great memories of all of my mother’s famous cinnamon rolls we ate together.  Mom had two rules about the cinnamon rolls – nobody counted how many rolls anybody ate and you had to come see her to get some. She didn’t give them to people to give to other people – she wanted to see you and spend time with you.  If there are cinnamon rolls in heaven, you can bet that these two are gobbling down a bunch of these together today.

davey-and-grandma-rolls

Twenty years ago I found myself in ICU with twelve blood clots in my lungs.  Have you ever seen a doctor look scared when they tell you are experiencing a life-threatening situation?  Laying in the emergency room, I heard God clearly tell me that I wasn’t going to die from this.  Later, five different doctors at five different times looked at me in awe and told me the blood clots should have killed me.

The blood clots obviously didn’t kill me. It just wasn’t my day.

I know that God has reasons for picking May 18 as Davey’s final day here on earth.  I may never understand those reasons but I trust God.  And, since God wants him in heaven, that’s what I want for Davey.

Knowing that this date was determined before Davey was born helps me avoid needless regrets like –

  • I wish he hadn’t gone on that call.
    • It wouldn’t have mattered.  This was his day.
  • I wish he hadn’t gone to work that day.
    • It would have happened no matter what he was doing.
  • I wish he hadn’t been a police officer.
    • He was born to be a police officer and he died honorably, serving his community and doing what he loved to do.  He wouldn’t have wanted to live or die any other way.

It was decided.  There is no ‘wishing’ something else had happened.  God decreed the number of Davey’s days here on earth and then he took Davey home.

Now, standing on a foundation of God’s love and strength and grace, I am figuring out how to move forward.    I am still here because God has a purpose for me and that’s what my life needs to be about until the day God has already determined when he will come to bring me home.

I don’t know all the details of my future but meanwhile, through the tears, I’m focusing on loving God and loving other people.

A bigger chunk of my heart is now in heaven with you, Abba Father.