Tag: death of a child

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!

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 this week of Christmas 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 this tough season.  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.

On By Judy GlasserIn When the Worst Happens6 Comments

It’s a Quadruple Whammy

This will be my 7th 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 and 6th years of living with the growing hole where Davey should be.

This will my 7th 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 41st 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 44 years ago.  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.

People like me are called Survivors.  I’ve spent over 6 years so far learning just how much surviving goes into this.  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.

On By Judy GlasserIn When the Worst Happens2 Comments

I’m Not a Screamer

Normally I am not a screamer.

But on this day, I screamed.  And I didn’t stop for a long time.

It was several months after my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.  I remember sitting, staring off into the distance with my mind swirling with pain and grief and anger and confusion.  I don’t know how long I sat there but I remember gradually realizing that I had been sitting there a significant amount of time.  And I didn’t feel like what I was doing was helping me deal with my shattered life and my broken heart.

I remembered an article on grief that I had wanted to read and I eventually found it in a pile.  I am usually an organized person but those few several months after Davey died were the most unorganized months of my life.  Nothing seemed to fit anywhere anymore so everything went into a pile.

I’m sorry I can’t tell you the title of this article or the author or where I found it.  This just shows you how well my brain was functioning back then.

One of the suggestions in the article for dealing with extreme grief was to try screaming.  After surviving a tragedy, we often have a lot of emotions that we keep all bottled up inside of us because everyone around us is also hurting and we don’t want to add to their struggle.

So we keep it inside where it tears us apart, roars in our ears and keeps us awake at night.

The article suggested that screaming might help me get out my emotions and feel better.  I was ready to try just about anything.

They mentioned finding a time when I was alone – for obvious reasons.  I also needed to find a place where I could scream and not end up with the neighbors calling the cops.

Wow- I definitely needed to avoid that scenario.

I went in my closet but it was too small.  Don’t ask my why but I wanted to lay face down somewhere and scream into the floor.

I laid face down on the living room rug, closed my eyes and started screaming.  And I kept screaming.  I had the biggest pity party of my life – screaming my head of as I went through every negative and painful thought and feeling that was rolling around in my head.

I screamed a long time.  When I finally stopped I was exhausted and I had a sore throat.

And I felt lighter.  It felt good.

I got up on the couch and decided that this needed to be a turning point for me.  From then on, I was going to focus on life, not death.  From then on, I was going to be grateful for all I had while Davey was alive and all I still had.  My life was not going to be about what I had lost.

Davey was gone but, for some reason, I was still here.  So I needed to figure out what purpose God still had for me here and do it.

I have cried a million tears between then and now but no more screaming.  The swirling in my head gradually stopped, the piles in my house found their place and I am gradually getting used to living with the hole – some days are harder than others.

I am so extremely grateful for the 34 years we had Davey.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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I Was Surprised

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Some parts of my son’s funeral are foggy to me and other sections are crystal clear.  My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  I will never forget the feeling I had sitting in the front row of the huge church auditorium packed to the rafters with family, friends and police officers and their wives.  As I sat there with thousands of people sitting behind me, I felt huge waves of grief rolling over the crowd.  A massive amount of emotion just kept coming, over and over, moving over the sea of blue.

That was the first time I realized what a blow Davey’s death was to our Blue family and to the whole city of Phoenix.

This was much bigger than family and friends and people who knew him.   This was the metropolitan city of Phoenix feeling his loss.  This was my whole big blue family across the nation grieving.  I had never experienced that monumental amount of serious grief and pain.

Unbelievable.

The speakers at Davey’s funeral were awesome and I appreciated everything that was shared.

I did not expect to be surprised by a few things that people said.  Davey and I were close and I had spent a ton of time with him.  As his mother, I thought I knew all about him.  But I learned two significant things about Davey that day.

One of them is Davey’s Legacy of Love – he made a big deal out of saying ‘love you’ to his squad members before he left on a call and he would stand there, waiting for them to say it back to him.  I knew Davey always ‘Love you’ to me, I just didn’t know that it was the last thing that he said to everyone that he cared about in his life.  I didn’t know that he had his whole squad of tough police officers saying it to each other before they left on a call.  I also didn’t know at the time of his funeral how Davey’s legacy of love was going to totally change the journey we have been on since that day.  Love is the answer.  God has infused love with a magic that provides strength and comfort in the worst situations.  I never experienced that until Davey was killed.

The other thing I wasn’t expecting to hear was how many of the speakers talked about Davey sharing his faith.  I shouldn’t be surprised because he had a very strong faith in God.   I just never heard him sharing his faith with other people so I didn’t realize he talked about God as much as he did.  Now I understand that, if he cared about you and he wasn’t sure you believed in Jesus, he would bring it up….often.  In fact, he didn’t let the subject die, he kept talking about it.  He would challenge his friend’s beliefs and unbelief.

How awesome!  It’s just another reason why I’m proud of the man Davey was.  Davey accepted Jesus as his Savior as a child and continued to grow in his faith through the rest of his life.  In this picture, Davey and my husband, Dave, are at a Promise Keeper’s Christian Men’s Rally.  Promise Keepers taught men all about living a life of integrity and keeping their promises.  Davey learned that lesson very well – those of you who knew him already were aware of that.

God provided a great church family for us which was the village that helped grow Davey’s faith.  Davey went to church camp and mission trips every year – living out his faith and having a great time doing it.  This picture is of one of the groups of kids that went on a church mission trip when Davey was in high school.  He is in the back row next to Jay Van Gelder who spoke at his funeral.  And Kristen, his future wife, is in the front row.  At this time, they weren’t dating – just friends. We had no idea that they would marry not too many years after this picture was taken.

Davey sets a good role model for those of us who believe.  We need to share our faith and what we know to be true – and we need to keep sharing it.

And do it all with love.

Just like Davey did.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

They Were Wrong

They were 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 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’m gradually 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.

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💙💙

On By Judy GlasserIn When the Worst Happens6 Comments

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 41 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!

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 🙂

asu

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.  

 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.

davey-square

It’s been over 6 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.

In my dream Davey looks just like he did in 2016.

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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The Best is Yet to Be

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I’ve heard this phrase several times this last couple of weeks – the Best is Yet to Be.

Thinking about my life here on earth, I’ve got to say –

this just doesn’t apply to me.

My ‘best’ here on earth was when my family was whole. It was before my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

Before Davey was killed, I remember feeling so blessed by my husband and two kids and their families. So blessed by my 2 grand darlings at the time – Davey’s kids.

I am still blessed by my husband and my daughter and my four grand darlings. But Davey is missing – and he will always be missing this side of heaven.

My ‘best’ here on earth included Davey.

Don’t get me wrong, I know there are more good times coming my way. I know God has good things in store for me and my family.

My future is bright –

but not as bright as it was before May 18, 2016. A 6’5″ light has gone out in my life.

And he took the ‘best’ times in my life here on earth with him.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

A Very Long Season

I am in a very long season.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  My world turned upside down and then crumbled before it exploded.  You get the picture.  It caused an earthquake in my life that was 10.0 on the Richter scale and the after shocks just keep coming.  There has been a domino-effect in all areas of my life these last 6 years and the dominos just keep falling.

The fall-out hasn’t stopped.  And now I realize that it never will.  My life here on earth will always be missing Davey.  Every holiday, his birthday along with every person’s birthday in my family, every family and friend gathering and every anniversary will have a hole – a 6’5″ hole.

Before Davey’s death, I often would write something like “praying that God will give you peace and strength during this season of grief’ on sympathy cards to people who had lost someone they loved.  I don’t write that anymore because grief is not a season that will have an end for people like me.  Grief is now a permanent part of my life here on earth.  I will be feeling the affects of losing Davey until the day I walk into my forever home in heaven, hand in hand with Jesus.  Only then will my grieving be over.

 I am gradually getting used to the pain and loss of Davey’s death.  I’m growing used to watching my hopes and dreams for my life with Davey continue to be blown away in the cruel wind of reality.

I’m getting used to missing Davey.

But that doesn’t stop the tears as my long season of grief continues year after year.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

On By Judy GlasserIn When the Worst Happens4 Comments

Just One More Time

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  And there are days I just don’t want to acknowledge the fact that Davey is gone.

I don’t want to try to find the strength to move forward.

I don’t want to face the issues that I have to deal with as I spend the rest of my life here on earth without Davey.

I don’t want to think about the reality that so many other Blue families and friends go through this same nightmare.  Too many.

I don’t want to visit his spot in the cemetery – I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.

I want to hear his laugh. Just one more time.

I want to see him pick up his little daughter and throw her in the air.

I want to see him playing basketball in his backyard with son and hear him coaching Micah on how to improve his shot. Just one more time.

I want to see him playing Cornhole and Washers with his sister and her husband in his big backyard every time they came to visit.

I want to see him in the car with his son picking up his dad so all the guys could go to Home Depot – they went there ALOT.

I want to see him on his riding lawn mover with his hat and his headphones on, rocking out to tunes while he cuts the grass of the lawn he loves so much. Just one more time.

I want to see him sitting on my couch with our minnie-pin puppy stretched over his chest, her head up by his so she can lay there and lick his neck.  She had a huge crush on Davey.

I want to hear him talking about which Cardinals away game he and the guys are planning to go to this year.

I want to see him wearing the crazy Cardinals hat I bought him as a joke while he tailgates before the game next Sunday. Just one more time. I want to see his eyes light up as a huge smile spreads across his face when he and his dad light up a cigar out on the green lawn by the Cardinals stadium. Just one more time.

My heart yearns to go back to a time when all these things were possible….. but my brain knows that’s not going to happen.

Miss you so much, Davey.

Love you.

On By Judy GlasserIn When the Worst Happens6 Comments

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 2 of my brothers.

But this was not the same.  Not even close.  And I can’t even explain how much worse it 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 6 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 and 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, 6 1/2 years later, I understand that we will never go back.

That time, that place is gone.

My life – our life – back there is gone.

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.  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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