There will come a day when your son or daughter will find that photo of you that we all have had taken when we joined or made Class “A” status or got promoted. You know the one where you look somewhat awkward with your hat tipped to far back and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to smile or not. Yeah, that one. It’s been a few years since anybody has looked at that picture. It got put away and buried deep in a closet in a box with some of the other stuff that you use to have on the mantle or hanging on the wall in the den. Maybe a few awards, old helmet, group shot of you and the crew.
Your child was younger back then, and never saw that stuff displayed. He or she is older now. Today, he finds that box, takes out the picture and looks at it intently. He takes a look at you. Then back to the picture of you in your class “A”. With a puzzled look, he turns to you and asks, “Daddy? When you used to be a fireman were you brave? And Daddy, how come you’re not a fireman anymore?” What will your answer be? Continue reading ““Daddy, were you brave? And how come you’re not a fireman anymore?””→
An open letter to a friend who is struggling with addiction.
I think of you often. Tonight, I decided to put my thoughts on paper.
When I was in my early forties, I was a young wife and mother with three small children. Due to circumstances at that time, I planned my suicide because I thought that everyone would be better off without me. I felt hopeless. Helpless. I believed I was a failure. To my children. To my husband. To everyone I loved.
That changed one morning. I was determined to make something of my life. I vowed that I would never let anyone suffer alone with depression without offering them my help.
I know your life On earth was troubled And only you could know the pain You weren’t afraid to face the devil You were no stranger to the rain
Oh, how we cried the day you left us We gathered round your grave to grieve ~ Go Rest On the Mountain lyrics, Vince Gill
Although Tim Casey and I had never met in person, we had a long-standing friendship through emails and phone calls. Several years ago, I received his first email. He had attached an article he wrote about his struggles as a firefighter; the nightmares, his addiction to alcohol, and his suicide attempt. He wanted to share his story in an effort to touch one firefighter, officer or other first responder who was struggling with these same demons. He felt it was his duty as someone in recovery to tell them “help is available”.
Thank you, Tim, for your friendship and your efforts to help your brothers and sisters. May you find peace, at last, on that mountain.
A very close friend of mine encouraged me to visit the Warrior’s Heart website, and review them as a potential first responder facility for addiction and post traumatic stress. I called the 800 number and was pleasantly surprised to be speaking with Josh, a co-founder. He gave me a clear and concise description of their mission as well an overview of the day-to-day activities at Warrior’s Heart. I knew in my heart that I was talking with someone genuine. This place is something very special.
This morning, I woke up as my husband was getting ready to head into work. Today is his normal day off, yet he is going in to work some overtime and to lead the range training for the other officers. I saw his range uniform lying there. He got dressed. I gave him a kiss, told him his butt looked good in those pants and off he went. I proceeded to start laundry, and I see his uniform needs to be washed. I broke down. Why? I can’t tell you exactly why it was that moment that sent me into tears. All I know is that moment sparked a million thoughts running rampant through my head.
What if this is the last time I wash this uniform? What if I get “the call”? What if something bad happens?
Then my mind turns to hate. Why don’t all these idiots understand? Why are they killing MY family? If I had it my way, I’d just… and I stopped myself. Hate is powerful, and in a matter of seconds, I had so much rage inside of me against these Officer Murdering Cowards. (Okay, maybe there’s still a little bit). I should not give these monsters that satisfaction.
Back to more questions that run through my head as I’m in tears. Why does he do it? Wait… HOW does he do it? You can ask any officer WHY they do their job, and you will likely get a very politically correct answer of, “to serve my community” which for most is VERY true. However, “WHY” is a very loaded word. Continue reading “Why and How: Thoughts from a Police Officer’s Wife”→