There are plenty of dangerous jobs out there. The other night my friend Ron showed me a photo of his son harnessed and joyfully dangling far above the Denver skyline. He is in the construction trades, and like my son is good looking with a great smile. I'm guessing both these men enjoy the adrenaline rush that comes with their work, but I really don't know. It's wild conjecture. I have no idea why some people choose altruistic professions and others work jobs that have inherent dangers. Once my son told me he would die of boredom if he had a desk job. Is an office job more benign than being a cop? 9-11 taught me that even people with seemingly safe office positions can confidently leave for work one day, not to return home that evening.
As his mother, just once, I am going to proffer my opinion. Speak my mind. Like many officers, my son has a spouse, a child, two sister, parents. Family. When he first starting as an officer I would go to bed each night thinking how while I slept, he was awake. WIDE AWAKE. Patrolling. Protecting. Then Ferguson happened and all these people on FaceBook were bashing the blue. I could barely sleep at night while fair weather FB friends would conveniently espouse opinions behind the electronic armor of their keyboards. I unfriended anyone whose anger was the color blue. Not because they disagreed with me. I unfriended them because this mother's psyche did not need to be negatively fed with any more reasons to lie awake at night.
For some people the hot-button issues of policing are political. For me, any issue regarding the police is personal. For some being far removed either geographically or familiarly makes it easy to opine and whine. It does not mean I want to turn a blind eye to injustice. It only means that when one police officer is attacked - morally, for a split second decision, physically - all police officers feel that punch. And so do their moms. So when my friends speak badly about police, it is personal. The men and women in blue go to work, say their good-byes to spouses, children, moms and never know if this is the last farewell. Any given day could be their final shift. End of watch.
2018. My son now works days. My childhood notion that daylight is safer then darkness is quickly dispelled. Bad shit happens when the sun is shining. In Colorado three officers are killed in 37 days. Last night in Ohio two men in blue went to work, to serve and protect, and they will not be returning home. Even though I do not watch the news, I also don't live under a rock. There are many days when the news is grim enough to make me want to stay in bed, covers over my head. Crying. I don't. This is how I process my grief and sorrow. My anger and fear. I write until my hand hurts and my hope is that my reader will find the same relief in this receiving as I do in the giving. I find breath in the giving.
Choices. Careers. Community. Where does this thought tornado leave me this morning? This beautiful, sunny Colorado Day? A day that finds my son on duty. A day that will find me going about my business all the while pushing the dark thoughts of my son's career choice to the back corner of my mind. He is trained. He is professional. Breathe. I will breathe and allow my mind to wonder a bit to my not so steely resolve to confront my son about his choice. His career choice to protect and serve his community. My decision is never a good one if it is based on fear, and this urge to speak to him is beyond fear. It is terror. A mother bear like desire to push him back into my den and make him hibernate until this insanity passes.
I went to bed last night determined to have a talk with my son. A more difficult conversation than any previous ones. Don't bully. Stand up for others. Respect girls. No means NO! Birds and Bees! Now I want to proclaim - DON'T BE A COP. This will be tough.
I don't usually go on FB till I've had a cup or two of coffee and have written my morning pages. Today as I swiped right to silence my alarm, I saw I had a FB notification from my former neighbor in Colorado Springs. Yesterday was the funeral for the third deputy killed in the line of duty in Colorado. In just 37 days. Fittingly it was an over-cast and bitter day. I had posted a piece on my blog titled Blood is Not the Color of Colorado, and she responded with this:
I attended the funeral service today for Deputy Micha Flick. He and his family attended my church Jane. New Life church and that's where the funeral service was held. This was my first time attending a funeral service for a fallen law enforcement member.
I never experienced anything like it. It blew my mind to see so many people represented from all over the nation and even a law enforcement officer from Canada to honor this young 34yo dedicated man that promised to do his best to protect us and his fellow brothers and sisters in blue.
He stood in front of his killer and the other officers and gave his life up to spare theirs. There were thousands of people who attended. I couldn't believe how much I cried throughout the whole service. The two things that got to me the most was when they carried his casket in and when Taps was played. I'm not sure if you saw any footage of it on the news tonight. The things his wife shared and the strength that she showed was so powerful. Again, I've never experienced anything like this in my life.
Words can't describe what I felt. I'm glad I didn't let the weather stop me from going to show my support. Jovon came with me and he sat and drew the picture they had of Deputy Micha Flicker on the monitor before the service began. I told him we need to find a way to get it to his wife one day. I'll have to text it to you tomorrow.
Give Nick a hug from me and tell him how much he is appreciated for his service.
"I love you son, and I am proud of you and your choices. Your community is lucky to have
you. Stay vigilant. Be safe"
Cop Mom
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