What’s Under the Rug?

May 18, 2016 seemed just like any other day.

And then I received the call that my son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer, had been shot.  Before the night ended, he was gone.

I felt like the rug of my life was completely pulled out from under my feet.  Nothing was what it was before.  My husband and I lived a mile away from Davey and his family and Davey was my husband’s best friend so there was daily interactions and conversations.

But now Davey was gone.

And the ‘rug’ was gone.

The ‘rug’ includes all of the material and superficial stuff in my life – the things that seemed to matter so much until I was hit with this tragedy.  When something horrible like this happens, none of that means anything anymore.  It’s all very trivial.

The ‘rug’  was not going to help me survive. The ‘rug’ was not important enough to get me out of bed in the morning after Davey died.  All of that ‘stuff’ was not motivating enough to make me to look up out of my grief and try to move forward.

When the ‘rug’ is gone, it exposes what is under it.

What is really important? What’s left? What do I say and how do I act when my whole world is shaking and crumbling around me?  What kind of character have I developed?

The real question is – how solid is my foundation under the ‘rug’?  What have I  been building my life on?

If you’ve experienced a tragedy in your life, you have had no choice – you had to answer these questions.  All of the people who love someone whose name is on the National Peace Officer Memorial in Washington, DC (below) have had to answer these questions.   

I have had to answer these questions.

The good news is that my foundation held.  It didn’t crack – it never shook.

My life is built on a relationship with my Father God who was and is and will always be.  He never leaves my side.  He fills my soul with his perfect love, giving me peace and strength for each day of this very tough journey of surviving the death of a child. 

God has already won the war that is being waged here on earth.  We know how this story ends.

But I still have a purpose to complete – a piece of his plan to accomplish.  And then he will take me home – where Davey is.

The ‘rug’ disappeared but God never moved.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Listening to the “Love You’s”

We remember.  And, if we listen closely, we can hear his voice as ‘love you’s’ echo through our heads.

Over 8 years ago, we lost a hero.  My son, David Glasser, was a  Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty.  We remember and honor his commitment to the safety of those of us who live in Phoenix.  We remember and honor his willingness to put himself at great risk in order to save others.

Davey was a Phoenix native who graduated from Moon Valley High School before getting a Bachelor’s Degree in Criminology and Psychology at ASU.  He was a Phoenix Police Officer for 12 years.

Davey was a family fanatic – he had a huge heart which was dedicated to his wife, Kristen, his two children and his extended family. Davey was a fanatic about loving God and telling people about him.

He was a sports fanatic – he played them his whole life and he followed them all.  He especially loved the Cardinals and Diamondbacks and all ASU sports. In this picture he is wearing a Cardinals hat that I bought him as a joke. He loved it!

He was also a people fanatic – he was a role model for all of us when it comes to loving people.  He loved to make people laugh.  He loved to be around people who were having a good time.  He was fiercely loyal to those he loved. He didn’t have any biological brothers so he recruited brothers his entire life – some wore a blue uniform, some wore a cross, others wore Moon Valley red, white and blue, and he had a large crowd of brothers who wore Cardinal Red.

If Davey loved you, you knew it – because he told you.  He knew how quickly life could change, how – in a moment –  his life could end.  So he was fanatical about telling people he loved them and he also was adamant about hearing it back.

Davey’s watch ended on May 19, 2016.  But his love, dedication, integrity and honor lives on through the lives of those of us who loved him and through the David Glasser Foundation.  There is still a lot to be done and the Foundation is proud to continue the work that David started.

Today, we pause…. we listen to the love you’s… and we remember.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you!

An Unusual Kind of Love

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 on us was an unusual kind of love.  It was an outspoken love – a love that broke down some of the walls we have built 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.

Today is the 8th anniversary of Davey’s funeral. That’s the day I learned that Davey said ‘Love you’ instead of good-bye to everyone he cared about – even his tough squad of fellow police officers. He insisted they say it back to him because he said they never knew if they would see each other again.

That’s the day I began to really understand the power of love.   These last 8 years I have been amazed at the large impact Davey has made on the lives of those who knew him and many more that never knew him but have heard his story as we have started loving one another with an outspoken love like he taught us.  Saying it and showing it.

Unusual love like Davey’s leaves a mark.

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 I have discovered since Davey’s death that loving people out loud has magical qualities which cannot be explained.

There is also a cost to experiencing this kind of love. There is a commitment.

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. The cost of loving people out loud is giving up some of our ‘separateness’ and privacy. 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 others love us, knowing that this love will leave a mark.  It will change us.

Commitment means loving this person even when they are unlovable.  Sometimes it means offering help and other times it means drawing helpful boundaries. This 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 out loud, you know what I mean.  The commitment is setting love as a priority and letting go of other things that we always used to think were important.

Love changes things.  It has a supernatural power that comes straight from God.  Love brings light into the darkness.  Love soothes pain and sadness and loneliness.

Love really can change the world.

Thank you for the permanent mark of unusual love you have left on our lives, Davey.

Miss you.

Love you.

We Lost a Hero

We lost a hero 8 years ago.

My son, David Glasser, a Phoenix Police Officer was shot and killed in Laveen, Arizona on May 19, 2016 during a burglary attempt.

Davey had been a Phoenix Police Officer for 12 years and helping people was an integral part of who he was. He told me he liked the fact that he could take dangerous people off the streets of Phoenix, making it a safer and better place to live and raise our families.

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Davey loved his family and friends and was well-known for talking about his faith in God. He was also a sports fanatic. The Arizona Cardinals, Diamondbacks and all ASU sports were his favorites.

Davey’s love for people attracted people to him. Because of who he was, he had a lot of friends from all over the metropolitan Phoenix area.

When we lost Davey, the whole city grieved.

As his family and friends, we knew that when he was leaving, he didn’t say good-bye, he said, ‘love you’. At his funeral, his best friend on his squad, Byrd, shared that Davey had his squad of tough cops all saying ‘love you’ to each other before they left the precinct. His squad said that it felt odd at first but became very important to them after Davey was killed

As a result of Davey’s habit, the last words anybody he cared about heard him say were ‘love you’. This created a legacy of love after he was gone – changing many people’s relationships and lives. If you would like to know more about this story, check out my book on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love”

Davey’s love for people and his city fueled the need for his family and friends to continue the work he started. The David Glasser Foundation was created to provide opportunities for law enforcement officers to have positive interactions with the kids and families they serve through youth sports. The foundation also sponsors a yearly Shop with a Cop event which helps kids and families in need from Laveen.

The David Glasser Foundation has been successfully completing its mission in Phoenix for over 7 years, continuing to make a difference with the people David protected and served.

Davey’s legacy of love is continuing to grow and positively affect people’s lives as more and more people hear his story. Today and everyday, please take the time to say ‘love you’ to everyone you care about instead of good-bye. None of us know when that will be the last thing we get to say it to that person.

I didn’t know when it was the last time I would be able to say it to Davey – now I’m so glad I said it. His ‘love you’ echoes back to me in my memory and makes me smile.

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.  Some of the issue for me is the fact that 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 two weeks 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.

No Regrets

It’s a good feeling.

No regrets.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who went to work on May 18, 2016 and he never came home.  He was killed in an attempted robbery.

We have a lot of tears. A huge amount of lost dreams. A big hole in our lives.

But no regrets.

Davey lived life to its fullest and, as a result, those of us around him were also caught up in his whirlwind of a good time.  He was always planning the next poker party, the next BBQ, the next Fantasy draft and the next trip.  We knew we could count on him to provide the spark – something fun was on its way.

We all got used to saying ‘yes’ to whatever he was planning because we couldn’t say no – then we’d miss the fun!  We also got used to helping him do whatever he wanted to do because it was going to be good.

Now we are so thankful for all those great memories.  And we have a ton of them!  Our calendar was full of good times with Davey – we have no regrets about things we should have, could have, or would have done.   None of us knew how short our time was going to be with him.

None of us ever know.

Early on as a family, we learned to keep short accounts.  If something major was going on, we talked about it.  If something wasn’t a big deal, we forgot about it.  Let it go. That way we weren’t hanging on to anger and hurt feelings.

There’s a reason why God tells us not to let the sun go down on our anger.  Because – sometimes – the sun goes down and the person we’re angry with never comes home again.

Accidents.

Heart attacks.

Aneurysms.

Blood Clots.

Getting shot.

For whatever reason, the person you are mad at doesn’t come home…

and you are left with regrets.

That doesn’t have to happen.  If you are living with regrets about the past, you can change that for the future.   Have short accounts – choose your battles and take care of the issue – forget the rest.  After the emotion passes, talk about it – don’t stop talking to people.  Start putting dates on the calendar for the things that are on your ‘some day I want to’ list.  By the time you get old, your bucket list should be very short because you have gone, you have done it, you have seen it. 

Say ‘love you’ instead of ‘good-bye’ to everyone around you.

Davey knew that some situations he got into as a Police Officer brought him dangerously close to never coming home again.  It was very important to him that the people he cared about knew that he loved them.  So the last thing he always said to us was ‘Love you’.

The very last thing he said to all of us was ‘Love you’.

And we said ‘love you’ back to him.

No regrets.

Just awesome memories of a very special person who we miss each day.

Love you, Davey.

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 was published last year 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.

Just One More Time

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.  And there are days I just don’t want to do some of these things.

I don’t want to acknowledge the fact that Davey is gone.

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

I don’t want to face all the ‘missing you’ times that I will have to face as I spend the rest of my life here on earth without Davey.

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

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

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

I want to see him pick up his little daughter and throw her in the air. I want to see him playing basketball with his son and hear him coaching Micah on how to improve his shot.  I want to see his eyes light up as a huge smile spreads across his face when he he watches his kids play with their dogs in the back yard. 

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

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

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

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

I want to hear him and his buddies talking about going to a Cardinals away game again next year. I want to see him wearing the crazy Cardinals hat I bought him as a joke.

Just one more time. 

I want to see him look over at me with a big smile and say, “Love you, Mom.”

Just one more time. 

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

Miss you so much, Davey.

Love you.

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