It’s A Struggle

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 in 2016.  The journey from May 18, 2016 to now has been a constant struggle.  And this struggle intensifies during the holidays – he loved everything 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 sharing their own heartbreaks and the losses they have experienced with me.  And others haven’t talked about it but I can see the private pain in their eyes when we talk about my heartbreak.

 We struggle together – especially at Christmas.

So I force my attention away from who I don’t have in my life any longer.  And I focus on all the blessings God is giving me right now. My 4 grandchildren light up my life and we are blessed to live close to the two littlest ones with our daughter and her husband. We get to see their excitement and their joy today as we go visit Santa Claus. Nothing lights up my world like the smiles of my grandchildren.

We are also planning several special times with family and friends during the holidays.  We have learned a life-changing lesson in just how short our lives can be and how quickly someone can be gone.  So, because of the hole, we know we need to make the most of the time we have together.   This is not the time to get stuck in yesterday.  We have new memories to make because there is no guarantee that we’ll have tomorrow together here on earth.

And we can’t ignore the struggle that is happening in so many people’s lives at 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 experiencing additional pain and loss during this difficult 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 struggling and I don’t want to add to the difficulties they are experiencing.

You know what feels really good? The David Glasser Foundation held our annual Shop with a Cop event yesterday in Phoenix, helping 30 kids and their families who would not have had any presents this Christmas without our support. It was a great morning of police officer volunteers helping these children buy gifts for their whole family and wrap them up so everyone is surprised Christmas morning. The kids also got to talk to Santa, eat snacks and do some crafts and games. The Phoenix Police Department was there with their super-interesting helicopters, K9 units and SWAT teams. What a morning! What a way to kick off the Christmas season!

What a great way to give joy to 30 families from Laveen, AZ., where Davey was killed.

Can each of us think of a way we can reach out helping hands to those who are struggling and need help this Christmas?

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

Miss you, Davey.

Love you!

 

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.

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.

What’s Happening?

“Something is going on.”

“I’m not sure where this is going to end up, but let me tell you what’s happening.”

“Things just seem to be falling into place…”

About every week for several months after my son, David Glasser who was a Phoenix Police Officer was killed on May 18, 2016, someone who knew him well would tell me that something unusual was happening in their life. You know who you are. Most of you didn’t know about the others. You just knew something unexpected and good was happening to you. But I heard the stories and I knew God was at work.

I could feel the shaking…

I could see the mountain moving…being reshaped…

There was a plan –

His plan.

Its amazing to me that now, over 9 years later, I still see the mountain moving. God continues to orchestrate good things in Davey’s name. He continues to encourage us as we honor Davey’s legacy. God has blessed the David Glasser Foundation in huge ways this last year as we work together to complete some of the work Davey would have done.

It takes team work. As we continue to do what honors Davey’s memory, God is doing his part. Where God is taking us is a big, foggy unknown but it all makes sense to him.

As we keep moving forward, God just keeps showing up – making connections, opening up opportunities, blessing our efforts. There are new team mates this year that I never expected. God is making it clear that he has more surprises up his sleeve.

Together, we are going to accomplish what God has planned.  He is bringing good out of the evil that happened on May 18, 2016.

There are a lot of pieces – none of us know how many.  Do you have a piece?

I love these pictures of Davey and his team a year before he was killed when they did the Tough Mudder.   It was long, it was hard, and there was pain. There was also the joy of team work and the awesome memories of a great accomplishment. Together.  Sounds kind of like the journey we’re on now, doesn’t it?

They persevered.  They worked together.  And they successfully finished the race.

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And that’s what we’re going to do.  Together.

There’s a purpose. There’s a plan. God is busy moving mountains.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

 

 

It’s Really May 18th

My son, David Glasser’s, official End of Watch is May 19, 2016. But the real date he left this earth is May 18.

You would know that as well if you had seen him. His body was hooked up to all kinds of machines that were keeping his lungs moving and his heart beating.

But Davey – the fun, smart, wonderful son, husband, dad, brother and friend  – was already gone. He was already with his Father God.

It’s been over 9 years since Davey was killed and I’m still very thankful for all of the support we received that night and ever since then.

I am thankful to modern medicine which gave us time the night he was shot to start coming to terms to our new reality.  We had several hours to figure out how to start to say good-bye.  It helped.

I am thankful that the machines were able to keep his organs alive so that he could give the gift of life to so many other people.  Our families have been blessed by other organ donors so we know what an important thing this is.  Knowing that helped.

I am thankful for the doctors and nurses who treated Davey with care and respect.  They also were very helpful and understanding to those of us who spent the darkest hours of that night in a room next to Davey in unbelief of what was happening.  It helped.

I am thankful for the rooms full of police officers and friends at the hospital who prayed for us and supported us through those awful hours.  It helped.

I am thankful for the family and friends all over the country who prayed for us through that night.   I am thankful for all of the people who didn’t even know us and they prayed for us.  It helped.

daves-squad
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I am thankful for Dave’s squad who, disregarding their own pain, had the worst job of making telephone calls and getting us to the hospital.   I am also  thankful for the Employee Assistance Unit led by Sgt. Dave Osborne.   Both of these teams promised support and they meant it.   It really helped.

I am thankful for the entire Phoenix Police Department who supported us that night any way they possibly could.   They parked our cars so we could run right into the hospital, they brought food, they picked up family at the airport, they took care of the press, they drove us home, they never left their watch on Dave’s room and much more.  It all helped.

I am thankful for Pastor Mark Grochoki from our church, Palm Valley, who somehow found a way through the crowds and lines of police to pray for us in a small, dark corner of the hospital lobby.  It was an oasis of peace in a very long, terrible night.  It helped.

I am thankful for the Police Chaplain, Bob Fesmire, who is so clearly called by God to walk families like ours through the most painful hours of our lives. Your words of wisdom cut through the shock and helped us move forward.  You prayed for us through the night when we had no words.  I will never forget your prayer as we said our last goodbyes before leaving the hospital.  I don’t recall the exact words of your prayer but I remember God reaching out through them to wrap his arms around me to comfort me.  You were Jesus with skin on that night, my brother.  You really helped.

I am thankful for the Concerns of Police Survivors (COPS) organization which continues to support us and care for us. I appreciate all the memorials where it is very clear that Davey’s service and sacrifice will never be forgotten. I am thankful for the large number of people who faithfully support the David Glasser Foundation and it’s efforts to continue Davey’s legacy of loving people in his city.

 May 18th, 2016 was Davey’s last day on this planet.  Now he lives in our hearts and our memories until we see him again in heaven.

I’m not saying that we need to change the date on all the plaques and forms.

I just wanted you to know……..

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

The Dave Glasser #8144 ‘Love You’ Campaign

If Dave were here, he’d be saying it to you, right,  James Byrd?

Byrd told all of us at the funeral about Dave saying ‘Love you’ to his brothers in blue in his squad before he left for his shift.  And he expected them to say it, too.  At first, it felt a little awkward for all the guys loaded down with guns and weapons to be saying ‘Love you’ to each other but Dave insisted.  Because you never know if you’re going to get another chance to say it.

daveys-spot-on-birthday

Turns out, he was so right.  Too right.

We all know Davey loved us.  He told us all the time – its his legacy.  And he showed it with his ready smile, loyalty, how he included everyone in his love of having fun and a million other different ways.

Since Davey’s death, many of us have gotten good at telling each other ‘Love you’ when we’re leaving.  Because nobody knows better than we do just how easy it is for us not to have another chance to say it. And it has added some extra love to our relationships.  It has added a new depth to how important we are to each other.  It has added a clear understanding of how we are all sharing his loss together.

That’s how the Dave Glasser #8144 “Love You’ Campaign got started. A couple of months after Davey was killed in the line of duty, I realized that the ‘love you’ habit was spreading and was becoming Davey’s legacy. So I made it official by creating a Facebook page dedicated to spreading love and awareness on social media. The page if full of posts encouraging police officers and helping grow awareness of how awesome they are to others don’t know it. It also reminds us that life is short and we need to let people around us know that we love them.

Would the people in your life benefit from hearing you tell them you love them more often?

Could the world around you use a little more love?

Are people around you in a stressed-out rush? Are they angry? Lonely? Empty?

What are some things – big and small – that you could do to show some love to someone else?  You might know these people, you might not.  Love can take many forms – it can be a little more patience with them or some more forgiveness and understanding.  Love can look like giving people space to get on the freeway.  Or parking in a spot at the far end of the parking lot so others can take the close spots.  Sometimes just a smile can show acceptance and love to someone.  And never forget small gifts of chocolate 🙂

Is there someone you need to start saying ‘love you’ to more often?  Believe me, you never know if you’ll ever get another chance.

Maybe there are a bunch of people you need to start saying ‘love you’ to. Who are they? Why don’t you start right now? It might surprise them and it will be a nice surprise.

There are now over 1.6K people in the Dave Glasser #8144 Love you Campaign group. You are welcome to join us and keep the ‘love you’s’ going.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Bittersweet

I would like to write a nice, ‘feel good’ blog for Mother’s Day.  But it isn’t happening.

What’s happening is a rollercoaster of bittersweet emotions on this Mother’s Day.  My son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016 – right after Mother’s Day.   The horror of that day has overshadowed my Mother’s Day ever since.  The permanent, painful changes in my life emphasize the hole in my heart – especially on this day.

The last Mother’s Day I had with Davey was just 10 days before he was shot and killed.  I was told later that he had the opportunity for some off-duty work that day but he turned it down, saying he wanted to spend the day with the ‘mothers’ in his life.  That doesn’t surprise me – that’s who he was.  He had his priorities straight.

Davey also knew I was alone that day because my husband had taken an emergency flight to Pennsylvania.  My husband’s father had just died.  Yes, my father-in-law passed away 10 days before our son was killed.  Have you ever felt the crushing impact of multiple bombs going off in your life?

When I remember that Mother’s Day, all I can think about is sitting outside at lunch with Davey.  I remember what it felt like to hang out with him – to laugh and have fun.  I remember how different my world felt with him in it.

My Mother’s Day will never be the same.  There is an important person missing.

But then I remember how thankful I am to have my daughter and four gorgeous grand darlings –  each one of them is such a blessing in my life!  When I focus on them, Mother’s Day starts to sparkle again.  All the possibilities!  All the new memories to make!  Watching my daughter as she does an awesome job being a mother to her two small children brings me joy. Watching my grand darlings grow into their own personalities and strengths is awesome.  Watching Davey’s children mature has the added joy of seeing glimpses of him as they exhibit traits they inherited from their dad.

If you have experienced the loss of a child, you know the rollercoaster that I’m describing.  Dark days and then the light shines through.  Things going smooth….until they don’t.  Several days without tears and then a day when it’s hard to stop the waterfall.

Mother’s day – it’s bitter sweet when you have lost a child.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Its Growing Again

I feel the sadness gradually growing in my heart.  I try to ignore the mound of dread that is starting to form deep in my soul. I blink back the tears that are ready to fall.

It’s May.

The empty place in my life begins to blot out the sunshine.  This emptiness has a name – Davey.  My son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

Today is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. How appropriate. Unfortunately, those of us who have lost a child have a lot in common as we learn how to live with our broken hearts. If you are feeling alone in your grief, please read my book on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love.” It’s the story of Davey’s death and life and my journey of finding hope after losing a child. You are not alone.

My May used to be all about having fun on Mother’s Day but now my Mother’s Day is bittersweet. My May also used to be focused on celebrating another successful year of marriage with my husband on May 23 and now that date is also a reminder to be thankful that our marriage has survived the trials and pain we have gone through these last 9 years.

Since 2016, May has had dark cloud hanging over it – Davey’s End of Watch Anniversary. 

It’s been 9 very long years.

Nine years of a level of grief I didn’t know was possible.

Nine years of a growing hole in my life that is impossible to fill.

Nine years of remembering and missing Davey – an awesome man, son, husband, father, friend and Police Officer.

Nine years of dealing with the painful reality of all that has been lost.

Nine years of figuring out how to move forward, honoring Davey’s sacrifice and his legacy.

Nine years of rebuilding dreams in the void where Davey was supposed to be.

Nine years without his smile.

Nine years of counting on God to get me through another day without Davey.

Nine years of visiting Davey’s spot in the cemetery where he is surrounded by other thin blue line heroes.  We used to visit Davey’s spot every May 19th but we have moved to Denver so we now stop in every time we’re in town.

If you have been following my blog, you know we planted a tree next to Davey’s spot right after his funeral. The first tree died.  It was just another disappointment in a long list of disappointments.  The good news is that the second tree is healthy and growing.  Its strong and starting to provide much needed shade in a very sad place. I put a wind chime on the tree every time I visit. Through the years they gradually disappear as the wind and weather claim them but there are always a couple left happily tinkling in the breeze, reminding me of better days.

The closer we get to May 18, the more I wish we could just skip the whole month.  Since that’s not possible, we will spend May 18th doing something that Davey liked to do – like playing cornhole.  We have found in the past that this helps us get through a tough anniversary.  It brings back some of our great memories of good times with Davey.

I know many of you will be visiting Davey’s spot on May 18th or 19th to honor and remember him – thank you. You are welcome to add a windchime to the tree if you would like.

I’m so grateful we have 34 1/2 years of great memories with Davey.

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 who are trying to enter get in 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.

When There’s No Tomorrow

The pain is burned into my memory. The grief is deeply etched into my soul.

That day – the day my son, David Glasser who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty.  May 18, 2016.

It’s the day when my life as I knew it exploded.  All my expectations for the future had Davey in them so it was all ripped away, leaving a huge, hurting hole in my life.  After almost eight years, I know that nothing will ever fill that hole.

I totally understand why people like me get stuck in a pit of despair.  I’ve been there.  I was violently pushed into a deep, dark place of grief by Davey’s death …. and I wanted to stay there.  Clutching his smile, his jokes, his integrity, and his love for others close to my heart, I didn’t want to move.  The dark felt good and right – my shattered heart felt right at home.

But my head knew that – somehow – I was going to need to crawl out of that pit.  I knew I could not let myself get stuck there.

With God’s help, I moved toward the light.  One step at a time.  Some days my steps went backwards but I was moving.  I made myself look up instead of back and, when I looked up, I saw my two little grand darlings – Davey’s children – who needed me.  I saw my daughter and husband who needed me.  I saw other family members and friends who needed me.  There is a reason I was still here and it was not to stay in that dark, terrible, but somehow comforting pit.

Looking back I realize that lying under the need to stay in the pit was a numbing fear that, if I moved forward, I would leave Davey behind.  That hasn’t happened.  All of my love and memories of him have moved forward with me.  He was and is and always will be a part of me. 

He’s not here but he’s not gone.

For Davey, there are no more tomorrows here on earth but those of us left behind have important tomorrows where we need to be engaged and loving and find hope again.  It’s the hope that only faith in God can give.

So the challenge for me and for you is to love others around us like there is no tomorrow because, someday, there won’t be.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.