Tag: memories

What’s Happening?

“Something is going on.”

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

“Things just seem to be falling into place…”

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

I could feel the shaking…

I could see the mountain moving…being reshaped…

There was a plan –

His plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

img_1818

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

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

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

 

 

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I Catch A Glimpse

daves-locker

Davey’s squad did an awesome job of turning his locker into a beautiful memorial to their fallen team member and brother friend. I recently talked with a police officer from Davey’s old precinct and his locker is right next to Davey’s so he sees it every day.

Fallen but never Forgotten.

A couple of months after Davey was killed in the line of duty, we were invited to go see his locker. As we stood in the men’s locker room at the precinct, it took me a little while to realize I was looking around, over the heads of everyone else.

I was looking for Davey.

In the sea of the blue, it was an automatic reaction.

And then,

I remembered…..

I wasn’t going to see him here today. I wasn’t going to see him again on this earth – ever.

These types of events are bitter-sweet.  It’s great to get together to honor Davey and the sacrifice he made in order to protect and defend others. These times also shine a spotlight on the big hole that has been left in our lives.

When I saw his Cardinals hat on the top shelf of his locker, I caught a quick glimpse of him wearing that hat and smiling at me with eyes that look so much like mine.

I love catching glimpses of him.

There have been times during this last 9 years since Davey was killed that I would be sitting next to my grandson and, out of the corner of my eye, I would see a young Davey sitting next to me.

When I look over, it’s obviously not Davey.  It’s his son, Micah. So much like his father.

davey-about-5-editted

Micah 6:8, “He has shown you, O man, what is good, and what does the LORD require of you?  To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

Justice and mercy and humbleness before God is stamped on his heart and soul.

His long legs spread out in odd directions when he’s getting comfortable. Such a bright smile! Intelligent and kind eyes.

That big head full of ideas and questions and plans. Taller than everyone else he hangs out with so his head is always easy to find in a crowd. Always gentle with his sister. He is patient with her when her when she shows her ‘strong will’ and doesn’t want to have fun.

He needs to know the rules and follow the rules.  He doesn’t want to get into trouble.  But he will question the rules.  They have to make sense to him.

He loves sports……all of them.

And he knows A LOT more about sports than most kids his age.

He loves his family. They are extremely important to him. And he loves his friends.  It’s not hard to become his friend…..his heart is always open for another one.

He loves to go…. and do… and have fun.

davey-about-7-edittted

He’s an obvious extrovert who loves people. And he loves God.  He knows a lot of the Bible stories – one of his favorites is David and Goliath.

Am I talking about Davey or Micah?

You guessed it – I’m talking about both of them.

Don’t get me wrong – Micah’s personality is also packed with awesome things that are uniquely Micah.  I’m very interested to see how all of these great qualities roll up into the amazing young man he is destined to be.

Meanwhile, I will treasure these  ‘glimpses’ of Davey…..

until I go ‘home’ and see the real thing again.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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Still Crumbling

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I am still losing Davey.

More pieces of my heart keep breaking.

This is the part of losing a child that only those who have experienced it understand. Parents who have lost a child don’t ‘get through’ the funeral and then start to ‘heal’. None of those words apply to this situation. My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police officer who was killed in the line of duty 9 years ago so I know what I’m talking about.

Our dreams of our life with our child keep being ripped away. I have discovered that this doesn’t happen all at one time when we find out they have died. We experience this ‘losing’ again and again, over and over, no matter how long ago they left us. They should be here with us right now.

Our Christmas celebrations have painful holes in them. Mine is a 6’5″ hole. Every new Christmas memory feels a little empty. Mother’s Day is bittersweet. Davey’s birthday is a mixture of great memories and an aching heart that’s missing him. Davey’s children’s birthdays are another fun but sad event. There is a proud dad who is not there.

Every family picture is missing someone. I think about this when I see other people’s family pictures and a comment like this is made – “We’re missing Jack and Susan in this picture because they were unable to come to the wedding.” For the last 9 years, I have thought about putting a comment like that on our family pictures because Davey is always missing.

As parents who have lost a child, all of our plans for growing older included hugs, smiles and new memories with our child who is no longer here. Our dreams for the future keep crumbling around us as, each year, we lose more and more pieces of what we expected our lives to look like.

There are times when I just can’t believe I have to live the rest of my life on this planet without Davey. Some days there are moments when his loss feels painfully fresh. I try not to think about living 15-20 more years with this growing hole in my life where Davey should be. That’s a long time to be here without him.

I try to focus on all the blessings in my life now and all the great memories I have with Davey. But there are days that the losses pile up and it’s too much to ignore.

Days like today.

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

Bittersweet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

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Its Growing Again

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

It’s May.

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

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

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

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

It’s been 9 very long years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nine years without his smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miss you, Davey.

Love you

The Bomb

A bomb exploded in my life on May 18, 2016.

My plans were made.  I was on a course for my life that had my son’s smile and laughter plastered all over it. And then the bomb went off – sending my life onto a whole new trajectory.  My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police Officer who was killed in the line of duty on May 18, 2016.

That day my life was thrown onto a path I never wanted to be on.  None of my former plans fit the journey I am on now.

I know I’m not alone.  There is a large group of us who were loving life with Davey when the bomb went off.  And now we find ourselves in this other world…..which is not as much fun….and has an obvious empty space,

Don’t tell me time heals all wounds.  This mother’s heart is broken and its not healing this side of heaven.

But….

here I am……

  • Putting Davey’s memorial bracelet on my wrist every morning – missing him, surprised that it’s been almost 9 years since he was killed.  It feels like yesterday.  Except so much has changed. 
    • Everything has changed.
  • Blue has become my favorite color because it reminds me of Davey’s commitment to be a great police officer.  Many of my house decorations are now blue, my toenails are often blue and I’ve changed my Christmas decorations to mainly blue. People can recognize which house I live in because of all the blue lights.
  • I’ve been retired for over 8 years and my retirement is drastically different than what I thought it was going to be like before Davey was killed.  I have been forced into a life without my son. A life I would have never chosen.

About 6 months after Davey was killed, I was shopping and saw a small plate with ‘Embrace the Journey’ written on it.  I stood in that store in front of this plate for a long time.

Thinking……..

About the tragedy that had smashed my life and the lives of so many people I love. Thinking about the pain and the grief and the tears.

When Davey was killed, I’m glad I didn’t know all the details about the awful road we were going to have to travel.  Many parts of it have been dark and foggy and straight uphill … but we have traveled it together.

The last words Davey said to all of us were “Love you”. I now understand how much love has drastically changed this journey for me.

I have learned a lot about loving other people in these last 9 years.  I have learned a lot about what’s really important – and what’s not.  My heart has grown bigger as I reached out in love to the people I don’t even know because every little bit of love and care matters. It changes things. We all deal with tough issues at different times of our lives. Those of us who have lost a child have to live with missing our child every day of our lives here on this planet.

It is a difficult journey. 

I am so glad that, standing in the store in the store that day so many years ago, I decided to ‘Embrace the Journey’.  God has a purpose for my pain.  He has walked closely beside me so far and I know he will give me strength and peace the rest of the way.

Of course I bought the dish.  At the end of each day, I place my wedding ring next to Davey’s memorial bracelet on it – the only 2 pieces of jewelry I usually wear. My wedding ring changed after Davey was killed, too.  I added blue sapphires to it. 

Fallen but never forgotten.

Looking back, some days have been harder than others depending on the roller coaster of emotions the events of the day contained.  Sweet memories.  Sad losses.  Two years ago I published a book on Amazon, “Then I Looked Up: Losing a Child, Finding His Legacy of Love”. Its the story of Davey’s life, his death and my journey of finding hope and purpose after losing a child. Publishing this book has caused me to have many great conversations with people about their own journey of grief. My main response to these conversations has been an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for 34 years with Davey. 

Each day, as I look at this small plate on my bathroom counter, I am reminded of my commitment to Embrace this Journey.

One day at a time.

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.  After almost eight years, I know that nothing will ever fill that hole.

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

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

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

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

He’s not here but he’s not gone.

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

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

Miss you, Davey.

Love you.

His Last Words

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I am painfully reminded almost every day how short life can be.  How quickly things change – permanently.

My son, David Glasser, was a Phoenix Police officer who was killed over 6 1/2 years ago.  He was doing his job just like he had done every day for 12 years.  But on May 18, 2016, his life ended.

The worst happened.

Those of us who were left behind will never be the same.  Our worlds blew up and the emotional fall-out continues.  Every time I visit Davey’s spot in the cemetery, I am reminded of  all the families whose heroes are buried in the same area and are on this painful journey with us. 

It’s a struggle.  Some of my steps moving forward really hurt.

If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that the last thing Davey said to everyone that he cared about was “love you”.  He even said it to his squad members and waited until they said it back.  It has been such a blessing for us to have that last ‘love you’ echoing through our heads as we deal with the grief and loss of Davey’s death.

If you have been reading this blog, you may also know that one of the things I wish Davey had done was write me a final letter I would receive if he didn’t come home one day.  It would be something I could get out to read over and over again on the dark days when I need some encouragement.  I have now written letters to everyone who is dear to me in my life and they will receive them after I’m gone. Next year it will be 10 years since Davey left us and I’m going to write another set of letters since so many things have changed.

I know Davey loved me.  He and I thought alike so we didn’t have to say a lot to communicate how we felt about each other.  Now, I would really love to have some of that written down in a letter.

So imagine my amazement awhile ago when I was searching through our small document safe that holds our important ‘stuff’ and I found an envelope with Davey’s handwriting on the outside.  In the envelope is a list written in Davey’s handwriting.  The bottom of the page says, “Sunday School 1999.”

He was 18 years-old.

He had written what he thought his life would be like “40 years from now”.  He gave a couple of options of what he wanted as a career and one of them was ‘police officer’.  He described the woman he would marry, how many kids he wanted, and his desire to continue to grow his relationship with God and be active in a church family.

It’s amazing to me that I kept this.  It’s definitely a God-thing. I’m an anti-hoarder so I’m very selective of the things I choose to keep. The number of old things I’m willing to move and store goes down as the years progress.

I shared the list Davey had written with my husband and Kristen because this is as close to a letter as we’re going to get.

I have discovered that this list encourages me.  It reminds me of Davey and sparks great memories of how his eyes would light up when he talked about his plans and dreams. I realized that he had achieved all of the things on his list before he was killed and it felt like a fitting closure – he had done what he was sent here to do, it just wasn’t long enough for the rest of us.

Davey didn’t have 40 more years.  But reading this list makes me so grateful that we took full advantage of the 16 more years he had at the point when he wrote this.  No regrets.  We had 34 awesome years with him here on earth and that’s going to have to be enough until we see him again in heaven.

Thank you for the letter, Davey.

Miss you.

Love you!

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 Davey’s potential before he was killed 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. I am the president of the David Glasser Foundation and God has been doing some powerful and very interesting things with the foundation this last 6 months. It’s going to be great to see where all of this is going.

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.

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I’m Not Mad

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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.