Moving Forward

One of my goals on this journey of losing a child is – don’t get stuck.

The experts tell us there are 5 stages of grief that we all go through, sometimes more than once. I have met several people who were stuck in a stage like anger and bitterness and haven’t moved forward. I didn’t want to be like them.

I had to figure out how to move forward – even when I didn’t want to.

It’s not easy.  My world shattered when my son, David Glasser, who was a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  Each day that followed was empty and the pain intensified each night. My mind wanted to focus on all of my broken dreams. The future I had expected was filled with fun and great times with Davey was never going to happen.  What I had lost created a huge hole.

And I wanted to stay there.  That felt like the place I was supposed to be…..

Until I looked at my grand darlings, Davey’s son and daughter.  They have their whole lives to live and their lives cannot be all about what they have lost.  Their future is bright and full of possibilities and I need to be a positive, encouraging part of that future.

I also looked at the rest of my family.  We have all been left behind on this earth to accomplish what God has planned for us.  We have a purpose.  We’re not supposed to get lost in the dark places on this road and live there the rest of our short time on this planet.

So it became one of my goals – don’t get stuck.

Moving forward is a battle.  As the list of things Davey is missing grows, so does the sadness of not having him here.  As the years go by, I lose more and more parts of him and it hurts.  There are days when I don’t want to go forward because it’s just too much of a struggle.

But it’s worth it.  I have met many people on this tough journey whose worlds have been blown apart by a tragedy…. and they are still living in that tragedy every day.   Honestly, they just are no fun to be around.  They have traded the good things of today for the pain of yesterday.  They have refused to rebuild their dreams for the future and they are mired down in the dark times of the past.

I know that getting stuck and living like that could be easy to do.  But I’m refusing to go there.  I have found that it really helps me to focus my mind on all the good things I had and all the good things I still have.  When my thoughts start to dwell on all of the good things I have lost, I have to stop myself.  None of that thinking helps me.  That is the slippery slope that slides into the muck where people get stuck.

Being a part of the David Glasser Foundation has also helped me move forward.  Honoring Davey’s legacy by doing positive things in his name really helps the future look brighter.  Sponsoring youth sports teams brings joy to my life because Davey played basketball and baseball and loved all sports. The foundation also organizes a Shop with a Cop event every Christmas for families that need help and that really starts the holiday season off in the right way.

There is still a lot of work to be done.  Not everyone needs to start a foundation, but I have suggested to other people who have experienced a huge loss to think about possible ways they could honor the memory of the person they lost while creating a positive future.  College scholarships are a great option to remember someone who loved education and help someone else reach their educational goals.  Sports scholarships are also great to remember someone who loved sports and give other kids a chance to improve their skills in the sport.  Remembering the person we lost by helping someone else can reclaim some of the future that was stolen from us when the person we loved left us.

Rebuilding a positive future.  That’s the goal.  That’s the struggle.

And it’s worth it.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

_____________________________________________

If you would like to read more of this story, I have published a book on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love”. This is the story of Davey’s life, his death, and my journey of finding hope and purpose after losing a child.

I’m Not Mad

People have asked me if I got mad at God when Davey was killed.  My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

Looking back, I cannot remember a moment when I was mad at God.  I know many people have that reaction when tragedy strikes because we know that God is in total control of what happens on earth and now this horrible thing has happened to us.

That is not my response.

After thinking about it, I figured out that I didn’t get mad at God because I learned the truth more than 25 years ago that God is not Santa Claus.  He doesn’t exist to grant all of my wishes.

God is not here to do what I want him to do.  I am here to do what God wants me to do.

That’s a very important difference.

God is perfect, he is all-knowing and all-powerful.  He is the Uncreated One – eternal.  It’s all about him, not about me.

I also know that God is good, all the time.  He loves me, he wants the best for me and he is working all things out for my good.  My current circumstances don’t change these facts.

We spent the night Davey was shot in the hospital praying for a miracle. In the midst of praying and asking everyone I saw to pray for a miracle, I was thinking about the great story we would get to tell when Davey miraculously got better. As the night progressed, more tests were done and it became painfully obvious that Davey had already left us. There was no miracle for us that night.

I remember thinking in the midst of my black swirling cloud of grief, “Well, that’s not the story God is writing right now.  There is something else going on.  God is doing something different.”

Faith is about trusting in God even when we don’t understand.  Faith is about trusting in God even when we’re struggling with too much pain, too much loss, too much sorrow.  Faith is about trusting God even when tomorrow looks dark and it’s not a place we want to go.

The fact is that I’m still here because God has things he wants me to do.  That gives me purpose and helps me focus my eyes above instead of what’s behind me.  God is training my eyes to see beyond what is right in front of me.

I’m not mad. I’m grateful to God for his love and guidance through this worst time in my life. I’m grateful for all the blessings I have in my life right now. I’m grateful for all of the kindness and grace and love so many people have shown me and my family in these last 8 1/2 years.

And I’m extremely grateful for the 34 1/2 years on earth that I got to spend with Davey.

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 8 1/2 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.

It All Shook

May 18, 2016.

David Glasser, my son, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty on that day.

And everything in my world shook.

You cannot imagine what that feels like until it happens to you.  And it wasn’t just my life – the tsunami of his death hit everyone who was close to Davey. My two grandchildren’s world exploded.  My daughter-in-law’s world crashed. My daughter’s world flipped upside down as all of her dreams and plans with her big brother crumbled.

My husband’s world shattered into tiny pieces.  Davey was his best friend and my husband’s father had just passed away 10 days before Davey was killed.  Too much. How do we deal with this much devastating loss in such a short time?

Davey’s close friend’s and squad member’s worlds spiraled in various directions as each person felt the blow of Davey’s death.

The world shook.  It twisted.  It filled with unimaginable grief.  It emptied of joy and light.

I needed something solid to hold onto while everything around me smashed and rocked.  And I found the one thing that didn’t shatter, didn’t tilt, didn’t explode.  He was right beside me and he was Rock Solid – my Father God.  Always there, always loving me, always caring for me.

God has been with us every step of the way as we have each had to pick our way through the devastation Davey’s death had on our lives.  I am completely convinced that God is good and nothing that has happened to me changes that.

When my world gradually stopped shaking, I realized I was in this new place, a new reality.  It’s somewhere I never, ever wanted to be. My head recognizes this place and I know I have been left behind for a purpose. I have to keep moving forward. 

My heart is still regularly tugged back to a time when Davey was here, making me laugh and filling my life with his special kind of love. My husband and I just spent 10 days in the Phoenix area making new memories with Davey’s two children, having fun with old friends and making new friends. I had to stop my heart from focusing on how empty Phoenix feels without Davey. It’s hard. It hurts. People and places just kept touching the broken parts of my heart, the parts that will remain like that until I go to my forever home. So many precious memories of a different time……

my life before my whole world shook.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

The Most Difficult Time of the Year

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!  Davey had actually received the Teddy Ruxspin bear that Katie is holding from a family member for his birthday in November but his little sister loved it so much that he let her have it.  That’s who he was already at 7 years-old.

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 the Christmas season 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 these tough weeks.  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.

Nobody Knows

Nobody knows what it’s like to be a parent who has lost a child unless its another parent who has lost a child.

My husband and I attended the COPS Parent Retreat last weekend. There were 189 parents there and all of them had lost a law enforcement son or daughter in the line of duty. All of these parents know the ongoing grief that happens when we lose a child. They have experienced the nightmare of that call and they have endured the initial shock of finding out their child was gone. I found tears rolling down my face several times during the weekend when I would see the large dining room or auditorium filled with parents who are going through the continuing pain of missing their child like I am.

When we looked into each other’s eyes while talking about our children, there was an instant ‘knowing’. There was an automatic understanding that just isn’t there when we’re talking to anyone else. This ‘instant relationship’ filled the parents retreat with love and compassion for one another. It was a safe place to cry and express our grief. It was also a safe place to have some fun and great food.

The local law enforcement agencies really showed up with helping us move into our rooms, then moving back out and providing an awesome BBQ dinner for us. They treated us like they would want their parents to be treated if anything ever happened to them.

Those of us who have been left behind are called ‘Survivors’. None of us had any idea how much ‘surviving’ was going to need to happen on this tough road of losing our child. We have to survive their birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and Christmas without them. Every year. We have to survive family gatherings where they are noticeably missing. Every year. Some of us have to survive the birthdays of our grandchildren – the children of our child who should be here, but they’re not. This happens every year.

In my case, my son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 19, 2016. He was our only son. So whenever other people talk about their sons, all I have are great memories and a hole. This hole is getting bigger every year as he misses more and more.

I was glad to hear how often our faith in God showed up in our conversations. God was the only thing that didn’t shake in my life when Davey was killed. He has been my Rock and I discovered that he was a Rock to many of the parents I talked with. He has been lovingly faithful to all of us through our tragedies.

Another topic that came up in our discussions are the Law Enforcement memorials that we attend. Every year. They are bittersweet. We are very happy that our son or daughter is being remembered and honored at these memorials. It feels good to know that their sacrifice is not forgotten.

The bitter part comes when these memorials bring back to the forefront all that we have lost. They remind us of all the plans and dreams we had for our child and how our child had a starring role in many of our own plans and dreams. All of that has exploded and disappeared. It’s all gone. The moan of the bagpipes which are often centerstage at a Law Enforcement Memorial are a painful reminder of how long and how hard this journey of surviving the death of our child is.

Added to our loss is the fact that our child had been serving their community when they were killed. They were helping to put the evil in our communities behind bars and they were working tirelessly to help make our neighborhoods a safe place for us and our families to live. They were part of the ‘good guys’ in this world and now they are gone.

We have all lost so much.

No one knows that better than the parents of a fallen Law Enforcement Officer.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

How Tough Are You?

It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Figuring out how to deal with the extreme grief and loss I felt after my son, David Glasser, was killed has been a brutal journey. He was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

My life blew up…. and then crumbled. Everyone closest to me spiraled off into their own pits of grief and pain as their worlds turned upside down without Davey. My husband had multiple bombs going off in his life – his father passed away 11 days before Davey was killed. Davey was his best friend….and now he was gone, too.

After the initial dust of the explosion settled, I realized I didn’t know much about extreme grief. My mother and father had passed away along with my older brother. My mother was the youngest child of 16 kids in her family so there was a regular progression of grandparents and aunts and uncles funerals as I grew up.

None of that felt anything like Davey’s death. A child at any age dying before their parents is devastatingly different.

The experts tells us there are many stages of grief and I experienced all of them. I have met people who have gotten stuck in some of the negative stages of grief like bitterness and anger. My goal was not to get stuck. I wanted to deal with my grief in a healthy manner that was going to help me move forward.

God had a huge part in helping me work through the negative stages of my grief. He has been my Rock and he gave me strength to ‘be there’ for others in my life when I had no strength of my own. He has walked closely with me down this very dark path of losing a child.

Other than the Bible, there were a couple of books I found very helpful. One of them was Option B by Sheryl Sandberg. She was planning to share the rest of her life with her husband, growing old together as they watched their grandchildren learn how to walk and ride a bicycle and drive a car. This was Option A.

Then her husband suddenly died, leaving her behind to do everything by herself. This was Option B. Sheryl didn’t want Option B. But that was her only choice.

Wow! I could relate to that! I was supposed to grow old watching Davey retire from the Police Department and follow his dream of teaching in a high school and coaching basketball. I’m sure he would have coached both of his kids in a variety of sports. I was supposed to watch him walk his daughter down the aisle and play with his grandchildren. I could go on and on. Option A was fantastic!

I don’t want Option B – life without Davey. But I have no choice. The evil in our broken world catapulted me into Option B.

One of the main ideas that stuck out to me in Sheryl’s book was that we can build our resilience. Resilience is our ability to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties. It’s how tough we are. We can develop processes that improve our response to problems and help us bounce back more quickly.

Yes. I was extremely interested because I knew Davey’s death may be the largest tsunami to hit my life, but it wasn’t going to be the last difficult situation I was going to have to deal with. I didn’t want grief issues piling on top of health issues piling on top of relationship issues while I was ‘stuck’ in negativity. And we know, it’s not a matter of ‘if’ something bad is going to happen to us, it’s a matter of ‘when’.

I am also a process-oriented person so – Yes! Give me a process!

I didn’t get a process that was going to work for me from reading the book, so I started praying about it and God gave me one. He reminded me of the things I know to be true about him. He reminded me of his promises to me and that he always keeps his promises.

I gradually developed my own process of filtering everything that happens to me through these truths – –God is in control of everything.

-God is good, all the time.

-God loves me with a perfect love.

-Nothing is impossible for God.

-He has promised that he is working everything out for my good and he always keeps his promises.

These truths keep me grounded and in line with God when my painful circumstances try to make my emotions go up and down and around on a roller coaster. I have given all my ‘why’s’ to God – he’s in control. I don’t understand everything and I don’t like what has happened to me but I’m going to trust God with all of it.

He is God…and I am not.

This process has been invaluable to me as I go down this very dark and long road of living here on earth without Davey. Everything that happens to me gets filtered through what I know to be true about God and I rest in His goodness.

My response to bad things happening has been repeatedly tested since then – remember I said, it’s not a matter of ‘if’ something bad is going to happen, it’s a matter of ‘when’.

Two years ago, my husband was taken to the emergency room by an ambulance. It was a life threatening situation. In the emergency room, they called a ‘code’ and the available hospital personnel came running to help. They saved his life that day.

Many people talked to me about how ‘scary’ that must have been. I realized my process of growing my resilience had really worked because I was not scared, I was not worried.

God was in control. He is good, all the time. He loves me and he loves my husband with a perfect love. Nothing is impossible for him. He is always working things out for my good. I need to trust him.

It has been a constant stream of issues with my husband’s heart ever since then – surgeries, procedures, issues, nights in the hospital. My process of filtering everything that happens to me through the things I know are true about God has kept me on an even path, ready to face whatever is next.

It works. You are welcome to adopt and adapt my resilience process if you like. Because the question is not ‘if’, the question is ‘when’.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Yes

The answer is yes.

When I am asked if other law enforcement officers being killed in the line of duty brings it all back, the answer is always yes.  It brings back the horrible shock and loss of May 18, 2016 when my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed during a burglary attempt.

Officer Zane Coolidge from the Phoenix Police Department died in the line of duty two days ago. Since Davey was a Phoenix Police Officer when he was killed, we are very connected to all law enforcement events in Arizona. Officer Coolidge’s sergeant was Davey’s best friend on his squad. When I heard that Officer Coolidge had passed away after being shot, my mind immediately went to the day Davey was shot and that horrible night in the hospital as his brain waves gradually disappeared. Tears rolled down my face and I started praying. Officer Coolidge left behind a wife and a baby as well as the rest of his family and his friends and co-workers.

Many painful memories are brought to the surface for whenever this happens and my broken heart keeps reminding me of all I have lost. I’ve been in this situation long enough to know that this is how it is for a parent who has lost a child. Something triggers the painful memories and our tears flow. It could be anything – large or small – and we’re back in that horrible place where we had to face the fact for the first time that our child was gone. Our loss becomes fresh again.

I will never forget Davey’s funeral – over 5,000 people and the majority attending were law enforcement. So many young police officers with their young wives! I know many of them had young children who they left at home with grandparents or friends. Davey’s two young children, my grandchildren, were left at home with friends from his squad. So much grief. So much pain.

It’s hard for people to understand all the courage and sacrifice that goes into being a police officer. I am often asked why anyone would choose to be a police officer and I explain that it’s a calling. It takes a special kind of person to risk their lives for people they don’t even know. Officers accept the call to serve and protect because its who they are, they wouldn’t be happy doing anything else. They are part of the ‘good guys’ in our world who get evil off our streets so our families can live and grow in a safe environment. Sometimes the evil wins the battle when we lose heroes like Zane….and Davey.

I have discovered that its not good for me to focus on everything I lost when Davey was killed. It takes me to a dark place – a place Davey would not want me to stay. So I force myself to concentrate on all the blessings I have and not dwell on the empty spot in my life.

It’s not easy. Especially when I hear about another police officer death.

Miss you more today, Davey.

Love you.

Featured

It’s a Tough, Tough Journey

The first day of May is coming very quickly. For the last 8 years, this has been a long, difficult month for me. I already feel the cloud of grief gathering over my head. My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty in May 2016. His official End of Watch is May 19 but, if you’ve read my blogs you know I often use May 18th as the day he was killed because he was gone by the time I saw him in the hospital. Machines kept his body functioning until the next day so we could say goodbye and he could fulfill his wish of being an organ donor. But the awesome son, husband, father, brother and friend that we all knew was not in that hospital bed.

May starts out with Mother’s Day. It’s bitter sweet. I am so grateful for having 34 years with Davey, I am so thankful for our daughter and her family here in Denver and I am hugely blessed to have 4 adorable grand darlings. But Mother’s Day is not all flowers and smiles for those of us who have lost a child. The hole in our lives is bigger on Mother’s Day.

And then May 15th is National Peace Officers Memorial Day. So 4 days before Davey’s official E.O.W (End of Watch) our whole Blue Family is remembering and honoring all of our fallen heroes. Too many men and women have died serving their communities. Too many families are going through the nightmare we are going through. Too many lives blown apart.

May 15th is part of Police Week in Washington, DC. The main events of Police Week are the Candlelight Vigil and the Memorial Service. I have good, but bittersweet memories from 2017 when my family attended the entire week’s conference. Davey’s name is engraved on the Law Enforcement Memorial in Washington, DC. at 38 – W:30. If you haven’t been there, you’ll need to go the next time you are in town. It will help you remember that there are still a lot of people in this country who stand for honor, courage and sacrifice. There are thousands of people who have died serving their communities and cities.

We are hosting a Neighborhood Driveway Happy Hour on May 15th in our community in order to commemorate National Peace Officers Memorial Day. I think its important to raise awareness for all the sacrifices police officers make in order to serve and protect. The average person may not be aware this day exists but our goal is to make sure people who live around us know about it.

May 18th will forever be the worst day of my life. We always get together with family on either the 18th or 19th to remember Davey together. There is usually some cornhole involved since Davey loved to play games and have fun.

I’m sure you can start to understand why May is an especially hard month for me.

My long, difficult month of May always ends on a high note with my wedding anniversary with Dave, my husband. Forty-three years this year. It is a light at the end of a dark tunnel of remembering and it gives us something positive to celebrate. It is an accomplishment to be proud of, especially because together we have survived the worst thing that can happen to a parent. Our anniversary reminds us that our marriage has been one of our anchors in the continuing storm of missing Davey.

This year, May will end for me with a big Broadway Review all done by members of my 55+ community. Lights, costumes, and dancing – it’s all happening for 3 shows. I’m a singer so I’m in a couple of small group numbers and all of the big chorus numbers. That makes my participation low on stress and high on music and fun. I’m hoping this will help May speed by for me in a flurry of practices and rehearsals.

The main thing that has helped me keep moving forward through the roller coaster of pain and grief that has defined my life these last almost 8 years is getting as close to God as I possibly can. God remains my Rock as he shows me how to survive with a heart that was smashed on May 18, 2016. I spend many hours each week with my Bible open on my lap, listening and talking to God.

The amount of hours I spend with my Father will be going way up in May.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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 am a member of a couple of Facebook pages that remember and honor officers that have been killed on that day. EVERY DAY, several names. These posts give me moments of silent grief for the family, friends and coworkers who are now experiencing the same nightmare we did over 7 years ago. It brings back the memories of the shock and disbelief of those first few weeks….and months…..and years. So I pray for them because God has been my Rock since this bomb with all it’s 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.

Even doing something simple that Davey used to do brings on the cloud. Making beer brats reminds me of watching Davey cooking up some food for friends that were coming over. He always had a big smile on his face when people were on their way to his house – he knew a fun time was on its way.

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 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 person who is missing 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.