Have you ever???

Have you ever been convinced that the conversation you just had with your husband will be the last time you ever hear his voice? Or that the last time he says "I love you" will be the last time you hear him say it to you? Have you ever been convinced that you will never see your husband alive again?

I'm sure that as police wives we all go through times of doubt and anxiety. I go through that on occasion, but usually only after something happens. I feel nervous about letting him go to work, I get worried when he doesn't call or text me, I cry and pray a lot. But it is often a reaction to an event that has already taken place.

Last week, my dad called Officer Hottie to tell him how much he loved him and how thankful he was that he was part of our family. It was very sweet. When OH and I were first engaged he and my dad didn't have the best relationship. My dad always liked him just fine, but as most young men, OH has his own way and idea of doing things and it didn't gel well with what my dad's plan was. That was long ago and any hurts or stresses from that period of time has long passed, but it still feels good to know that my love genuinly loves my husband.

When OH called to tell me my dad had called him he was very sweet. He said how nice it was of my dad to call and how he was glad they had a good relationship. And before he hung up he said he loved me so much, which he always says. When we hung up, I looked around my house, the home we've made together, and our four beautiful children and I started to cry. I just knew that was it. In a few seconds my mind was there. You know what I mean; how would I tell the kids, how would I sleep alone, who was going to notify me, who were going to be the pallbearers, how much music would they allow at the service, which pictures should we find, etc. On and on. Then I started to beg. I begged and begged and pleaded with God to protect him, to not leave me alone. I can't raise four children on my own. We're in the middle of remodeling. I can't finish that. Who will keep my feet warm at night? No one understands me like he does, no one puts up with me like he does, no one smells as good as he does ... our kids like him more than me. Then slowly I started asking for strength and help. For courage. For peace. And for sanity.

When OH called me later, hearing his voice was such relief. What he hadn't told me earlier was that a few minutes after my dad called him he was dispatched to a fairly scary call. He also had been convinced that he was being sent into certain death. It was really just the timing of everything - a seemingly random phone call from his father in law, and then getting dispatched to this particular call. He said he started driving and thought, "Ok Lord. This must be it." So he called me. He said he had wanted me to know that he and my dad really did love each other and that he loved me the most. I, of course, started crying again. I hadn't told him when he called the first time that it terrified me; that for a moment (a long long moment) I thought that just maybe my dad knew what the future held. What he hadn't said was that he felt the same way.

It was an interesting dynamic; both of us being convinced we would never see each other again. Him trying to keep his head on straight so he could do his job effectively, me trying to keep it together so my children didn't see me falling apart for no reason. When he came home that night we couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

I know death is inevitable. I know it's going to happen; one of us has to go first. I don't know if it will be today, or in a year, or in 80 years. I don't know if it will be a gunshot, a car accident, or cancer. I just don't know. And I'm thankful for that. After those few hours when I thought I knew, I realized I don't want to see it coming. I don't want to be waiting for it. I won't sit at home in fear of what I have no control over. Trust me, I've considered it. Every time I get in the car, every time he goes to work, every time he works on our house or climbs up on the roof, every time we leave our children to go on a date or a vacation, every time one of our children is gone from our family for some reason, every time my son gets on the school bus I wonder if that time will be the last time. I've got to stop. After our second son was born I went through a time of not even wanting to leave our house. The "what if's" got the best of me. It was short lived, thankfully but I realized I'm a fearful person, and fear gets me nowhere. Fear paralyzes me. It stops my life, it makes me incapable of enjoying the very life (lives) I'm afraid of losing.

I'm glad my dad doesn't see the future and I'm even more glad that he loves my husband. I'm glad my husband's first thought when he thinks he is headed to death's door is to call me and make sure I know he loves me. Mostly, I'm thankful for Peace. I am thankful for the Knowledge that death isn't the end. I am thankful for Hope.

I am thankful for one more chance to hold my husband's hand and to look into his eyes and to hear his voice.

I will let Thanks be more powerful than Fear.

Up on the Soap Box

Excuse me today as I step up onto my soapbox.

Ahem...

For the past few days I have seen a few things on Facebook that have made me burn with rage.
It all started because of this:

Families of slain Lakewood officers to sue for $182 million KOMO News - Breaking News, Sports, Traffic and Weather - Seattle, Washington Local & Regional

But what really got me fired up and not able to sleep well was this follow-up article. I should clarify by saying it wasn't the article itself that made me mad, although the overall tone of it did upset me somewhat. It was the comments that readers left that got me so hopping mad. In fairness, I could only read two or three before I had to close the webpage so maybe there were some nice ones on there, but I doubt it. Maybe it's petty and I'm being emotional but it ticked me off. The gyst of the article is that the four families of the fallen Lakewood Officers are suing the county for policy change. I would too, if I were in there shoes. Honestly, a third time felon was let out on bail and then he massacred their spouses. It was preventable and yet "the system" failed. Then the community is outraged. How dare these families sue for money! They are so selfish! Their spouses would be embarrassed! I went to two fund-raisers, don't they have enough money?! Are you KIDDING me Seattle? Seriously?

It makes me crazy when we judge each other. Not the kind of judging where "this is right and this is wrong" but the "you let your son have a pacifier?" kind. The kind of judging that doesn't do any good. The kind that only makes people feel horrible and belittled. The kind of judging where you really have no idea what someone is going through but feel the need to tell them they are wrong in what their decisions are. You know the kind of judgement. Unfortunately, we're all guilty of it . Passing that kind of judgement onto four families who are in a whirlwind of loss and tragedy is subhuman behavior. To tell a widow, who's husband was murdered while having coffee, simply because he wore a badge, that community support should be enough, to question her motives when you haven't talked to her, to say that her husband would be ashamed of her, to question her character and integrity and her support of the law enforcement community is completely out of line. And what good does it accomplish? Not one thing. Except that these poor widows, the victims, have been so bullied by the community that they decided to drop their lawsuit. This is what it's boiled down to Seattle? Bullying a grieving widow? Really? Are we happy  now?

As a woman who sends her husband off to work everyday and prays prays prays that he will come home and kiss me and read our kids a chapter from The Magic Treehouse series, I cannot even begin to fathom what the families of these officers must be experiencing. To lose a spouse in such a horrific manner is unspeakable. Even if I didn't agree with what the families decided to to, who am I to judge them so harshly? I haven't gone through what they've gone through. My kids want their dad to come home every night ... to have to tell them again, every single day, that he won't be coming home? I can't even go there.

I'm just so ashamed of the backlash these poor families have had to endure. I wish I did know them so I could take over a coffee cake and let them know we don't all feel that way. That they have my support, whether they sue or not. I did find it interesting that three of the families dropped the suit while the fourth chose to wait and think about the options. That fourth spouse? A man. God love men. They aren't swayed by emotions or worrying about hurting someones feelings. Good for him.

I'm getting down now. And if by some crazy chance any one of the Lakewood families reads this, you have support. A lot of it. We need policy change. We need to know our husbands are protected. If the only way to get the attention of our law makers is by making them pay out some money, so be it.

Ok, I'm really getting down now. I'm off.

A Goodbye

The other night Officer Hottie attended the wake of one of his coworkers wives. She was young, they have two teenage children, it was sudden (although not unexpected) ... all of those horrible things that eat away at me when someone passes away. There is little comfort in death, except the Hope we have in Heaven, and I truly am hopeful that Pam* is there.
I only met her once, and based on that one meeting I really really liked her. It was just weeks after OH started with the department and one of the officers was transferring to another city so his sergeant, Pete*, was throwing a goodbye bbq. Since OH had only been there a short time, and since the officer leaving was the one who had encouraged OH to apply there, we really wanted to go. We showed up to this gorgeous immaculate home with our three children and a six pack. We were the only ones who came with children. Not even Pete and Pam's children were there. Our piddly little six pack was added to the cases everyone else had brought. I was mortified and felt totally out of place. And Pam gushed over our children. She held our daughter, who was only 5 months or so at the time, she got me a towel so I could wipe up spit up, she sent Pete to the attic to retrieve boxes of toys their children had long forgotten about, she turned on Nickelodeon, she dug through the fridge to find hot dogs ... she was so gracious and made me feel comfortable and right at home. When we had to leave because our children were melting down (which she insisted was OK and didn't bother anyone), she helped us find shoes and invited us to come back. Pam was the kind of hostess that I hope I am.
When Hottie called me on his way home from the wake he said, with great affection, "I treasure you." When he arrived home he kissed me a little bit more and a little bit longer than usual. When we finally climbed into bed he said to me, "Don't leave me." I realized he was feeling the same feelings I've been having since Officer Brenton was killed. He was experiencing that mixture of terror, sorrow and pride. No one likes to have death hit so close to home, and watching his friend grieve his beloved was a difficult experience.
I wish Pam were still here and Pete and his children did not have to walk through this terrible time. I am thankful I was given the opportunity to meet her, if only once, and experience her kindness. I don't think she could ever have understood how opening her home to my family the way she did could instill such gratitude and thankfulness in a young insecure mom. She will most definitely be missed.

*Not their real names