Tag: losing a child

Continuing What He Started

Davey cared.  He didn’t just say ‘Love you’, he showed it and lived it before he was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

When Davey was 12 years-old he took a summer job as a junior counselor at a Boys and Girls Club in a high-risk area of Phoenix.  He wanted those kids to have a safe summer playing games and having lots of fun.

I will never forget – on his first day of being a counselor, one of the little kids vomited and Davey had to clean it up.  Yuck!  But it was an early lesson about how – when you care – you often find yourself in the middle of the yuck and mess of other’s lives and choices.

What a great lesson for a young man who would later choose to become part of the Thin Blue Line between the innocent and the evil.  He cared and he did something about it.  Everyday as a Police Officer, he stood for what is good and right in our world – pushing back the evil and often ending up in other people’s yuck.  He knew Police Officers weren’t perfect – he wasn’t perfect.  But they are willing to stand for what is safe and right.   They don’t just talk about it or throw some money at it – they are willing to put their lives on the line….because they care.

Davey wanted our community to be a safe place for families to live and kids to play. He requested to work in high-risk areas of the city because the need for people who care is greater there.  The Thin Blue Line has to be stronger there.  He often told me that his goal was to put the people in our city who chose to put other lives in danger behind bars so they couldn’t hurt people anymore.  He received several commendations for his extra efforts against the monsters who beat up on babies and small children.

And he paid the highest price possible for his dedication to caring for his city when he was killed in the line of duty over 10 years ago.

Davey made a significant contribution to his city when he was alive and he has inspired those of us who are left behind to make a difference through the David Glasser Foundation.  We are continuing the work that Davey started. 

You have probably heard that Davey loved sports – all sports.  The disciplined activity of sports helped him grow into a strong and confident and capable adult.  So, in honor of Davey’s love for sports, the David Glasser Foundation is sponsoring youth sports teams throughout the valley. Volunteer police officers and other law enforcement personnel are coaches on these teams, giving the kids and their families an opportunity to have positive interactions with the officers while learning important life skills like respect, dependability, team work and much more.

If the young man who shot Davey had had positive interactions with police officers when he was younger, it’s possible that he would have made a different decision.

Davey’s life on earth has ended but his legacy of love is continuing to unfold.

Thank you for all of the support so many of you have shown for the David Glasser Foundation.  Together, we are continuing the battle.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you

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You Don’t Understand

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I know its very hard for parents who have not lost a child to understand parents who have. There is nothing that compares to loosing a child. I think losing a spouse is the closest thing and it’s still not like losing a child.

If you want to try to understand and help a parent who has lost a child, one thing you should know is that the statement “Something good will come out of this.” doesn’t help and I’ll tell you why.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 19, 2016. Davey was one of the good guys who helped people all day and worked hard to take the bad guys off the street his whole career. He was on a trajectory to help the people of Phoenix every day for his first career and then he planned to teach high school and coach basketball. Can you even imagine how many people and how many kids he would have positively affected in his two careers?

That’s only part of the good that would have happened if he had not been killed. The personal gain for me would be all the smiles and fun and great times we would have had with Davey. All the love and help and encouragement he would have given us will never be. All the great memories of awesome times together. Multiply this loss by all his family and his at least a hundred friends.

That’s the good that should have happened. That’s the good that will never be. That’s the good that I grieve over.

Yes, there have been good things that have happened since Davey was killed. The David Glasser Foundation is still fulfilling Davey’s legacy by sponsoring youth sports team all over Phoenix and helping families from Laveen in need at Christmas with a Shop with a Cop. There is a David Glasser Sports facility in Laveen which has become a great hub of good things for that community. There are many other good things that have happened.

But none of it is as good as the things that would have happened had Davey lived. All those good things have been lost forever.

So I may smile when someone talks about the good that has come out of Davey’s death but inside I know there’s just no comparison.

You just don’t understand.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Struggling with Adversity

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Have you struggled with any huge issues in your life?

I have.  I am still struggling with the most extreme adversity I have ever experienced.  On May 18, 2016 my world exploded.  My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on that day.

I have experienced quite a lot of death in my life but this is – by far – the hardest.

Davey was a unique young man who was dedicated to serving his community and dedicated to living life to its fullest with fun, going everywhere and anywhere, while collecting a vast number of friends. He did all of this with an obvious devotion and love for God and his family.  My husband and I lived 1 1/2 miles from Davey and his wife and 2 children the last 5 years of his life.  We talked with him daily and saw him almost every day for one reason or another.

I don’t have the words for how painful this last 10 years have been.  It defines adversity.  Living with the reality of my circumstances is a struggle.

As I read the book of Job in the Bible, I can relate to many of the trials Job went through.  Job experiences the shock of getting terrible news that all of his children have been killed.  I know what it feels like to have one of my children die, I can’t imagine being told they were all killed.  Then, after the first horrible news,  painful things just kept happening.  I can relate.  When people around him started saying strange and wrong things to him, I can relate.  Job questioned God and wondered why this was all happening to him.  I can relate.  He was overwhelmed with sorrow.  I can relate.

It’s a huge struggle.

Job was confident that his redeemer lived and he was confident that – in the end – his redeemer wins.  He knew that God was in total control and all-powerful.  I am also confident in my Redeemer, the Creator of the Universe.

Job committed his life to being faithful to God in spite of his circumstances.  He praised God in the middle of all of the pain he was experiencing.  He knew that is was wise to turn from evil and love God.  I can relate to all of this.

Job had a long conversation with God.  I can relate – I have had many long conversations with God about my son’s death.  Job confessed that he did not understand.  I can relate – I will never completely understand this.  Job’s eyes were opened in a new way to the reality that God has a plan and purpose for each of us and that God’s ways are not our ways.  I can relate.

God gave Job peace in the middle of his pain and blessed him.

I can relate.

He’s Not Gone

I love pictures – especially pictures of my family.

Now that we all walk around every day with good cameras on our phones, those of us who love pictures have a lot of great ones of the events and activities of our lives.

But the pictures are on our phones.

Or they are on Facebook for those of us who are into that.  Or in our clouds – where ever that is.  Ten, twenty years from now, when my grandchildren want to look back on family history, where will they look?  Scroll through everybody’s phones? Maybe we’ll have an electronic process that’s easy and convenient by then.  We don’t have anything like that now.

This has motivated me to electronically create family yearbooks and give them to the adult members of my family each year. I have a copy of the books for each grandchild as well – maybe that will be their twenty-first birthday gift. I love pictures, I have a creative side and I’m pretty good on the computer so making the books for everyone was a joy…..

until 2016.

That was the year my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer was killed in the line of duty on May 18th.  My world exploded.  The story of our family turned dark and sad and painful.

About 6 months after Davey’s death, I sat down to start our family yearbook for that year and I attempted to make the first page – a dedication page to Davey.  It took me several weeks of struggling to complete just that first page because of my grief.  I would put a box of tissues next to me, determined to get past that first page but I just couldn’t.  Sobs made my hands shake and the anguish in my broken heart would overwhelm me.  Each time I tried, I had to stop.  The emotional fall-out of trying to put together the pictures of the tragedy that happened in our lives in 2016 would follow me around like a dark cloud for several days.

So I stopped working on the 2016 family yearbook.  Whenever I thought about it in 2017, I just ignored it.  Whenever I thought about it in 2018, I would log in and attempt to start working on it, but it hurt.

Too heart wrenching.

Too many tears.

I just couldn’t deal with documenting the year we lost Davey.  I thought about skipping 2016 and going on to 2017 but that was impossible.  There was no way I could skip 2016 – our world had totally changed, we had experienced the worst and our lives had become unrecognizable from what they were the year before.  A 2017 yearbook wouldn’t make any sense without a 2016 book.

So each time I sat down to work on the 2016 book, I would end up staring at the dedication page with tears rolling down my face.  Then I would quit and close my computer.  I did this every 3 to 4 months….

until 2019.ο»Ώ

After 3 years of trying and failing, I opened up my computer in 2019 to see if I could get past Davey’s dedication page in our family yearbook for 2016 and, somehow, suddenly, it felt very right to be documenting my family’s extremely tough journey through that year.  I treasured the pictures and memories of the days before May 18th, 2016.  I loved fitting the pictures on the pages – remembering special moments of Davey’s last months.

And the pictures we took after May 18th actually filled some gaps in my memory caused by the fog of grief and the swirling in my head.  They are important memories of how we struggled and loved each other through the pain.

I realized that I had turned a corner on this road of loss. With God walking closely beside me, my memories had now become more precious than painful.

I have finished the book for 2017. We had a super busy year in 2017 with memorials and Police Week in Washington, DC.  So many people and organizations did great things to remember Davey and show that they cared about us. It felt good to review it all as I put the pictures in order. Our 2017 family book is a really big book full of special memories. 

And Davey is there with us.

I started doing 2 or 3 books a year and now I am officially caught up. I am working on the 2026 book. My daughter’s children who were born after Davey was killed are still getting the 2016 book and all of the books following because Davey’s life and death continue to have a big impact on our family. I’m so glad God showed us how to take Davey with us in a positive way.

And I’m very grateful that my memories have become more precious than painful.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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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.

At that time, 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. Now it’s ten years later and I have lost my last two brothers and more friends and cousins and it’s true- the first year was the toughest.

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 brothers 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 just not true.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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It’s Invisible…

but it’s there.

It’s a cloud of grief with my son, David Glasser’s name on it.  He was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  This cloud has hung over my life since that day.  You don’t see it or feel it.

But I do.

I have moments of silent grief when anyone I know shares that they talked to their son or went somewhere with their son.   That used to be my husband and I.  We lived 1 1/2 miles away from Davey and his family the last 5 years of his life.  We talked to him almost every day and saw him almost as much.  We were included in all of his plans for fun which were many and often.

Oh, how we miss those fun times with Davey!

I’m on a Facebook page with hundreds of other parents who have lost a child in the line of duty. We get daily reminders of our kids’s End of Watch dates so we can be sure to remember them. That notification gives me moments of silent grief for the family, friends and coworkers who are experiencing the same nightmare we have for the last 10 years. So I pray for them because God has been my Rock since this bomb with all its repercussions hit my life.

God is the only thing that didn’t shake in my life when Davey was killed.

I have moments of silent grief when anything negative about Police Officers comes onto the television.  Any disrespect or dishonor exhibited for Police Officers is very personal to me.  It feels like disrespect and dishonor for Davey’s bravery and commitment in serving and protecting his community.

Davey gave his life for the people in his city.

I have moments of silent grief whenever I do something Davey used to do.  Even something as simple as cooking beer brats takes me back to Davey’s kitchen as I watched him make a big pot of brats for all of the friends and family that he was inviting over that day. 

Davey loved people so he found lots of reasons to invite people to his house to have a good time.

There are many moments of silent grief when I watch Davey’s son and daughter playing sports.  His son, Micah, wears Davey’s number on his jersey whenever he can get it. Davey would have been right in the middle of it all, coaching them and showing them how proud he was of them.

He was such a great dad!

I have moments of silent grief whenever I see someone receiving a folded flag.  We have a folded flag in our house and we know all about the pain and loss that comes with it.

I have moments of silent grief whenever I’m around Davey’s friends and squad members.  It’s great to be together and the love and support we have for one another makes a difference … but the hole he left in our lives is so big.

People have asked me if memorials like Police week are hard and I always say they are bittersweet. It’s feels right and good for us to remember and honor our fallen heroes but these memorials definitely shine a spotlight on the hole in my life.

What’s really hard is living every day without Davey. That’s the worst.

If you have experienced a tragedy like mine, you understand.  If you haven’t, I hope you never know what this cloud of grief feels like.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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I Want to Go Back

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

That has completely reversed.

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

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

Do you ever want to go back?

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

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

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

God is making a way in the wilderness that defined my life after Davey died. He is leading me to streams which feed my soul. He is guiding me out of the wasteland of grief and pain where I found myself over 10 years ago.

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

He is doing a new thing.

One of the Most Difficult Things

I’m standing here …..

surrounded by the rubble of my dreams.

They were my dreams for the future of my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016. There are times when the piles of my broken hopes and plans overwhelm me.  There are so many good times with him that have been snatched from my life.  So much happiness and so many smiles that will never be.

Davey planned to retire from the Police force and get his teaching certificate.  He wanted to teach in high school and coach high school basketball.  He would have been an awesome teacher and an even greater coach.  I witnessed some of his potential when Micah, his son, grew old enough to start playing in various sports leagues.  Davey was always beside him during water breaks, giving him tips and encouraging him. I planned to be sitting in the stands watching it all with a big smile on my face.

Unbelievable.  So much has been lost.

Davey was always the responsible oldest child.   He cared for his father and I – making sure we were doing well and getting any help we needed.   A couple of months before Davey was killed, my husband and I had rented an RV in Denver for a week and then drove it from Denver down to Phoenix.  Davey was not happy when he found out we had gotten back and we hadn’t let him know we were safely home.  He took his responsibilities seriously. He was always watching out for us.

A couple of months before that I was driving my car with a donut (spare tire) because I had had a flat tire and couldn’t find the time to get it fixed.  Davey refused to let me drive my car to work on the freeway because donuts were not made to go that fast.  It’s not safe.  He insisted that we switch cars and he got my tire fixed for me while I went to work. He did things like this for me all the time.

Davey was supposed to be here beside his dad and I as we move into the fall of our lives.  He was supposed to grow old with his wife.  He was supposed to coach his children’s sports teams and proudly watch them graduate from high school.  Then he was planning to happily watch them graduate from ASU (if he got his way).   We were supposed to share the joy of weddings and his grandchildren with him.

But it’s all gone.

Only the painful rubble of my dreams is left. When Davey was killed, I lost all of his future…… and I lost mine. Even when he wasn’t involved in something in my life, I would talk to him about it, ask his opinion and send him pictures because I knew he would be interested. Not any more.

One of the most difficult things people like me who have lost a child have to do is rebuild a positive future. We don’t always want to, but we have to for the sake of those we love who are still here. And because the child we lost would want us to.

I’m standing in the rubble because I’m not sitting. I’m not getting stuck in it. I haven’t gone to heaven yet because God has a purpose for me.  I discovered that one of God’s plans was for me to write a book about this journey – “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love”. It includes the parts of my story that I’ve never blogged about and it is published on Amazon.

It’s obvious that I’m not done yet.  So I’ll keep moving forward, going where God leads me until he calls me home –  where there are no tears, no grief, no rubble.

Miss you Davey.

Love you.

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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. They have become a community- gathering place for Laveen. Fun and games are constantly happening here and neighbors are growing relationships. Davey would be proud to have his name on this place.

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

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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When There’s No Tomorrow

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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.  It’s now over 10 years later and 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.