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 Joshua Briese from the Gila River Police Department in Arizona was killed in the line of duty yesterday. Since Davey was killed when we lived in Phoenix, we are connected to all law enforcement events in Arizona. When I heard the news, 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. Then I found out later that Joshua’s dad, Deputy David Briese, was also killed in the line of duty in 2006! Unbelievable tragedy for this family. They are reliving their own nightmare.

For me, many painful memories are brought to the surface 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 have discovered that its not good for me to focus on all I have lost. 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 get news like I did yesterday.

There are names that are given to people who have lost others that they were close to. For example, a wife who loses her husband is called a widow. A child who loses their parents is called an orphan. 

There is no name like this for a parent who has lost a child. 

Maybe because no words can describe it.

Miss you more today, Davey.

Love you.

Redemption

Getting back something that was lost. That’s one of the things I think about when I hear the word redemption.

That’s the feeling I have every year when the David Glasser Foundation does our Shop with a Cop Event. It happened again this year on December 9. Twenty-nine kids were given a Christmas shopping spree for themselves and for their families in Target. Each kid shopped with one or two uniformed Police officers who helped them find the items on their wish list.

All the kids had an amazing time of fun with these Police officers as they chose those special gifts for everyone in their families. Then they went out and wrapped all the gifts together so their families would have a big surprise Christmas morning.

Did I tell you these kids live in Laveen, Arizona?

That’s where my son, David Glasser, was killed on May 18, 2016.

Do you wonder why the David Glasser Foundation goes back into that specific city to bless a group of kids and their families at Christmas?

Redemption. Our Shop with a Cop redeems some of what was lost when Davey was killed. These are the kids and the families that he worked hard to serve and protect. He gave his life to keep them safe. He cared for the people of Laveen and that love continues on through the David Glasser Foundation.

The smiles and joy of these children reminds me why Davey became a Police Officer. It matters that he chose to deal every day with the criminals in the underbelly of Laveen to help make the city a better place to live for these children and their families.

When I see the police officers who are volunteering their time to come shop with the kids and help give these kids a Christmas that they would not have had, I am reminded of the courage and honor and integrity it takes to wear that badge.  K-9 officers and their super dogs were at the event along with a SWAT Team with their cool equipment.  The Phoenix Police Helicopter Unit flew over the event to honor Davey and one helicopter landed so the kids and families could take a look at it up close. Each of these men and women in blue leave their own families and face the worst of humanity every day in order to serve and protect other people’s families.

Your family. My family.

A piece of what was lost when Davey was killed is redeemed in the smiles of both the children and their families and the officers. We can’t bring Davey back but we can continue some of the work he was doing.

He would have liked that- especially at Christmas time.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you

When the Answer is No

I asked.

I begged.

The night after my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was shot and was laying in a hospital bed attached to machines while his brain waves gradually disappeared, I felt a level of hopelessness that I had never experienced before.  The pain of the reality of what was happening continued to escalate as each hour passed through that long, dark night.

I was desperate to see God move – he needed to do something.  So I went down to the hospital chapel all by myself, I walked up to the altar and laid face down on the cold tile.   And I begged God for a miracle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Davey needed a big miracle. So I begged.  I have no idea how long I laid there, pleading with God.

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

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

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

I texted my closest friends and asked them to pray with us for a miracle.

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

We asked.

We begged.

A few hours later we received our answer.

And the answer was no.

No more smiles and jokes from Davey.

No more fun and games with Davey.

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

No to watching Davey live out his goals and dreams.

So many no’s.

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

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

– not happy about having to live the rest of my life here on earth without Davey.

– not understanding why I have to travel this path.

I move forward, taking my broken heart with me.  I listen and watch as God reveals his plan, one step at a time.

And one of those steps forward has been the David Glasser Foundation which is all about supporting opportunities for our Law Enforcement officer volunteers who are involved in youth sports and Shop with a Cop to show how much they care about kids and their families.  People – and especially the next generation –  need to understand that Police Officers are the good guys, here to help and sincerely caring that families have safe neighborhoods to live in.  The foundation with Davey’s name on it has become part of the solution to improve the health of communities in the Phoenix Metropolitan area.

Another step forward has been the book I published on Amazon earlier this year, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love’ This is the story of Davey’s life and death as well as my journey to find hope and purpose again after losing a child. I have talked with hundreds of people this year who loved the book and shared with me how it positively changed their perspective on losses they have experienced. 

Are these our miracles?

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Struggling with Adversity

Have you struggled with a 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 friendships. He did all of this with an obvious devotion and love for 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 7 1/2 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.  Job experiences the shock of getting terrible news that all of his children have been killed.  I can relate.   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.  I can relate.  He knew that God was in total control and all-powerful.  I can relate.

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

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 Is With Me

God has often spoken very clearly to me through Isaiah 43:2 these last 7 years since my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, was killed in the line of duty. Here is my response –

When I am passing through the waters of grief...

*of disappointment…

*of disillusionment…

*of pain….

God is with me.

When I am passing through a river of tears…

*pierced by the shattered pieces of my broken heart.

*trying to figure out how to live with a huge hole in my life…

the river does not sweep over me.  God is with me.

When I am walking through the fire of anger…

* not happy with my reality…..

* overwhelmed by grief….

I am not burned.  God is with me.

I am passing through.  I’m not getting stuck in these places.  Everything that happens in my life has first gone through the hands of my Father God.  He has a purpose.

So I will trust him as I pass through the water, the river and the fire.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

The Moment

I remember the moment I realized that everything in my world had changed. All of the horrible things that had happened to me in the last 15 hours connected in my brain for the first time and I knew that my life as I knew it was gone – blown up – smashed.

Nothing would ever be the same.

It was the moment when I was holding my son, David Glasser’s hand in his hospital room early in the morning after he had been shot the day before in the line of duty as a Phoenix Police Officer. The doctors had just announced their final report.

Davey was officially gone. A machine was still making his lungs breath and drugs were making his heart beat so that he could fulfill his wish of being an organ donor.

But the Davey I had loved and cherished from before he was ever born was not in this ravaged body laying in this hospital bed any longer.

I wanted to crawl in a corner and never leave. I didn’t want to know what a world without without Davey felt like. I didn’t want to face the avalanche of pain and loss that had already started to come crashing down on me and my family.

I didn’t want to.

I told God I didn’t want to.

I remember feeling a torrent of tears dripping down off of my face, soaking the front of my shirt. And I didn’t care. It was all too devastating.

Then, as Police Chaplain Bob Fesmire prayed over all of us standing around Davey’s hospital bed that morning, I felt God’s strong arms of love wrap around me. My Abba Father reminded me that, even though Davey was gone, God is always with me and he was going to walk down this very dark road right beside me, all the way to the end. He reminded me that he had always been beside me during all the tough times in my life – loving me and comforting me. He promised me that he was going to do that again.

And I knew he would. He had done it before, he would do it again.

And he has. God has been my Rock and my shelter as this hurricane of pain and loss decimated my life. He has given me strength and confidence as I have watched him put my life back together – piece by piece – making a much different picture than before Davey died. God has given me hope as he reminds me I have been left behind because he has a purpose for me here.

As I remember that moment in the hospital, I am thankful for how faithful God has been in my life these last almost 9 years.

And I know he’ll be walking closely next to me the rest of this journey, until I see Davey again in our forever home.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

___________________

If you would like to know more of this story, I have published a book on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love”

Surrounded By the Rubble

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 would have been retiring from the Police force right about now. He planned to get his teaching certificate 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.

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 he 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.

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.  He 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 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.

I’m standing here because I’m not sitting. I’m not getting stuck in the rubble.

I’m still here 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 I published it on Amazon almost 2 years ago.

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

Miss you Davey.

Love you.

He Knew It!

He knew it was important to say it.

And he knew how it important it was to show it.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty May 18, 2016.  And he knew how important the words ‘Love you’ are.

He said these words to his squad every time he walked out to take a call.  He insisted that his squad say “Love you’ back to him and to each other, too.  Davey also said these words instead of ‘good-bye’ to everyone in his life he cared about.  He knew how unsure life is and how quickly things change. He knew that these words can easily become the last thing you get to say to each other.  And he knew that these last words can either haunt you or bring a smile to your face. 

He decided to make sure that his last words always brought a smile.

Davey knew that ‘Love you’ is not just two small words. Strong emotions are attached to them which bring hope and warmth and worth when we are separated from each other.  Sometimes that separation is a couple of hours and sometimes – like my family – we are separated for the rest of our lives here on earth.

“Love you’ has brought strength and comfort to me when I needed it most.

God tells us that “Love builds up’ in 1 Corinthians and I have been a witness to how true that is these last 6 1/2 years.

Because Davey’s ‘Love you’s’ still echo in our heads, his family and friends have adopted them as our own habit.  It has become our mantra.  We don’t leave each other without hugs and ‘Love you’s”.  And this love has built us up.

It has built me up.  “Love you” rolls through my head during the dark nights when the hole in my life where Davey should be seems too much to bear.  It gives me compassion when other people share their losses and tragedies with me.

Love has made the impossible task of moving forward after Davey’s death possible. My moving forward has recently included publishing a book on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love.” This book includes the rest of my story if you’re interested.

I have found that it is hard to be angry when everyone around me is saying they love me.

It is hard to be bitter when hugs and ‘Love you’s’ are coming from all directions.

And it is hard to feel like I’m all alone when I am surrounded by love.

Love builds up.

Thank you for your legacy of love, Davey.

Miss you.

Love you.

Not Just One Day

Davey made a habit of telling people he loved them and showing love to them.  He would say “love you” instead of good-bye to everyone he cared about. He was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  And he was my son.

Davey thought telling people he loved them and showing them he loved them was so important that he tried to influence those around him to also catch the ‘love you’ habit.  He was so persistent that even his squad of tough cops at work said ‘Love you’ to each other before they left the squad room.  As a result, the last words any of us that he cared about heard from him are ‘Love You’.  These words have echoed through our minds these last 6 1/2 years as we have struggled to deal with the huge hole his death left in our lives.

So, does it surprise you that Davey didn’t like Valentine’s Day?

daveydave-tony-and-carter

He thought is was a holiday made up by the card and candy manufacturers in order to make money.  He knew that telling someone you love them and showing it was not a one day each year holiday.  It should be an every day event.  So, setting aside one day a year didn’t make sense to him.  I received Valentine cards from him during his ‘make your mom a valentine card’ years at school and church but not very many after that.

What I received from Davey was so much more valuable than a card.  He gave me consistent, genuine love and attention. Those of you who are his friends and family know what I’m talking about.

He cared about us and he showed it regularly in a thousand different ways.

Every day.

Isn’t that so much more important than remembering to show our love one day a year?

Don’t get me wrong – I like Valentine’s Day.  I think giving candy and valentines to my grand darlings is fun.  I  have received many beautiful bouquets of flowers from my husband which I really enjoy – I love flowers.   

But the challenge for all of us is to figure out how to make every day Valentine’s Day for those we love.  I’m not talking about buying stuff.  I’m talking about expressing our love in words and actions every day.

I started ‘The David Glasser #8144 Love You Campaign’ on Facebook the first Christmas after Davey died.  The purpose of the page is to show love and give encouragement to Law Enforcement Officers, their families and everyone that supports the Thin Blue Line.  The group now has more than 1500 members and is growing.  Check it out!  Click on request to join if you’re interested.  You’ll also get all the latest news about the David Glasser Foundation.

There has never been a time when our law enforcement officers and their families need more love and support.  Let’s figure out how we can make every day a day they feel loved and encouraged – just like Valentine’s day.

Let’s accept the challenge of trying to make the people we care about feel special and loved every day.  Those of us who knew Davey remember how that feels.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you!

If you would like to know more about this story, check out my book, Then I Looked Up, which was just published on Amazon.

It Leaves a Mark

There is a cost.

There is a commitment.

Love leaves a mark.

The cost is being more concerned about another person than you are about yourself.  What I want is not the most important thing when I love someone.

Commitment means loving this person even when they are unlovable.  Sometimes it means offering help and other times it means drawing boundaries.

Loving someone well takes a lot of energy and patience, wisdom and understanding.  Loving people well is a lot of work.  And it leaves a mark.

I have discovered that this mark doesn’t go away after someone we love dies.  This mark is permanent and never leaves us.

David Glasser, my son, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  The mark he left was an unusual kind of love.  It was an outspoken love – a love that broke down some of the walls we can set up as adults.  He said ‘love you’ often and you knew he meant it by how he included you and had fun with you and was loyal to you.  You knew there was a commitment being made when he said ‘love you”, it wasn’t just something he said.

The mark he has left is big.  It changed us. Loving each other means more hugs.  More caring.  Saying it and showing it.

The cost is giving up some of our ‘separateness’ and reaching out to people around us. The cost is taking our eyes off of ourselves long enough to see someone else that needs a hug or a hand. The cost is letting other people love us, knowing that this love will leave a mark. It’s permanent.

The commitment is not giving up even when its tough or strange or even a little weird.  Yes, weird.  If you’ve been really trying to love others, you know what I mean.  The commitment is setting love as a priority and letting other things that we always used to think were important slide down the list.

If I were to draw a picture of the mark Davey has left on us, it would not be a heart.  It would be a magic wand.  Because love has magical qualities that cannot be explained.

Love transforms us.  Love brings light into the darkness.  Love soothes pain and sadness and loneliness.

Love like this has changed my world. It can change your’s, too.

Thank you for leaving your mark of love on us, Davey.

Miss you.

Love you.