Back in the saddle

I really appreciated Katie's post this week about putting our hearts on the line.   It may be a really common idea, but I had never quite thought of it that way.  While our spouses are out there putting their lives on the line for the general citizenry, those of us who send them off put our hearts on the line.  It described my feelings and thoughts to a "T".

As my husband's law enforcement career winds down, I get more and more nervous that I'm going to send him off and have something horribly terrible go wrong while he's at work.  I've always been a little nervous, but at peace.  Now I think, have we come so far to just lose it all to some nutcase, right here at the end?  Officer Kenyon Youngstrom, whom Katie talks about in her post, died this week after checking out a dead deer on the side of the road.  (A fellow officer initiated a stop, where the suspect pulled over near Officer Youngstrom and eventually took Officer Youngstrom's life.  You can read all about it on the various news websites.) 

Whenever I send my guy back into the fray after hearing all the details about a line of duty death, I'm a little more nervous.  My heart races a little more.  I make sure I get an extra kiss or two before he heads out.  I repeat my mantra over and over,  "The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe."  Proverbs 18:10  (NIV 1984)  And I try not to eat too much ice cream.

What's your go-to method for calming the fears that find you when you aren't (or are) looking?

Well Hello There, 2012!

Happy New Year.  I guess I have to say that, although considering I'm still stuck in November 2011 as evidenced by the fact that it has been about six weeks since I last posted.... well, I'm in a bit of a quandary as to how to welcome 2012. 

We have had a glorious holiday season.  DH had much of December off, and we spent more time than I can remember in recent memory laughing, giggling, and having a wonderful time.  But all good things must come to an end.  School and work start up again next week and already the stress and "police mentality" is creeping back in.  While I'm so grateful for the wonderful, wonderful time we have had together, I'm also battling the "What if's..?" in hard-core style. 

It doesn't help that we're starting the new year with a bang -- literally -- in the law enforcement community.  I follow a variety of law enforcement related facebook pages, and after reading about the three deaths across the country on this first day of the year, I ran across this status update from Wives Behind The Badge: "We're following the story in Washington and will post the official notification when it is available. Sending prayers to all involved."

That made me so mad.  Are you freaking kidding me?  I'm so tired of "following the story" of the crazies in the world that think it's open season on our law enforcement officers.  Mostly, I think it's that I don't want to be part of the next story y'all are following.  So when DH comes home all angry and burned out and treating us like we are suspects on the verge of running and in need of incarceration, I'm very inclined to encourage him to go get that job at Starbucks.  I sure would work less at not worrying. And maybe we would all be -- albeit poorer -- a lot happier.

update

I said goodbye to the teeny-tiny church and unfortunately, had to also say goodbye to the main friendship I had there.  I did the best I could to say goodbye, but things are never as they seem.  Evidently I'm a demanding, perfectionistic friend who will only be friends with you if you are perfect.  Yeah, I got the line "All we've ever tried to do is make you feel welcome and cared for...."  Thinking back on the conversation, I laugh.  She's the tall, skinny, beautiful mom who regularly cleans her house and cooks delicious meals for her family and her house is always all neat and picked up.  As a squishy mom [ahem] with piles of crap everywhere at home (including more dustbunnies than one could ever want), and a favorite meal of chicken nuggets and potstickers (organic, but does that even count?!?) I find it hard to believe that I will only be your friend if you are perfect.  Then again, you feel how you feel.

Talking through the conversation with my mom, I thought of all these things I wanted to say.... and she gently helped me see that defending myself to them isn't going to help.  So for now I'm mourning the loss of what I thought -- quite mistakenly -- was a deep, wonderful friendship and wondering how not to get myself in this predicament again.  sigh.

It's always something, isn't it?

realization: church

The best piece of advice I received a few years back was from the wife of a sergeant nearing retirement (in fact, he's now retired). She told me [paraphrased], "You can't do everything. You have to give yourself permission to smile and say 'no.' Most people will not understand what it's like to have a husband in law enforcement and what that does to you and your family. You build your own hedges around yourself and your family and to heck with everyone else." Actually she was probably even more mild than that (that's who she is) but it really stuck with me.

It sounds lame, even now, as I've written it here. Of course! Set your own boundaries. Be good to your family. But I feel that in law enforcement our boundaries can be so different from everyone else's -- and for reasons which are more or less incomprehensible to those around us.

http://www.cumberlandchurch.com/

I'm still in the mode where I feel like I do everything by myself -- not just social events, but the entire life of our family. I won't list everything out because it will be bad for my psyche, but one thing I've really been struggling with lately is church. No, I'm not going to get all religious on you, just work with me here and know that we go to church -- more often than not -- on Sunday mornings.

When I say "we" I mean myself and the kids; husband is either working or sleeping on Sunday mornings. We've been going to this nearby teeny tiny church started by our friends but it's such an effort. There's nothing restorative or regenerative or inspirational about Sunday morning for me with three kids in tow there. It's a chore, and certainly not a joy, to participate in Sunday morning. For the last two Sundays, however, we've visited a church I attended years and years ago when I was very single and very childless. It's grown and changed in all these years, but some of the same dear people are there, as well as some "new" dear people our family knows now, too.

The guilt is, I've enjoyed being there these last two weeks. It's all the things I haven't had at the teeny tiny church. But it's 20 minutes away as opposed to 10 minutes. I'll be leaving behind friends who I'm sure will be crushed at the teeny-tiny church. And I can't decide if I'm being selfish to just "church-jump" this way or if my family really will benefit from being at this other church more permanently. The clincher for me is that my husband might actually -- gasp -- go to church with us at this new place. That would seal the deal for me if we could all worship together.

I'm dialing this in to the "married single mom police wife life." If I wasn't as dry as the Sahara Desert I wouldn't be craving a sort of restorative Sunday morning like I am. But, here I am. It's how we roll at HHPD these days. And as a LEO wife, I'm not expecting anyone else to understand, or agree, but I think I'll be jumping ship to this new church shortly. And I'm sad. Again.

Here she comes, there she goesI

It's been a bad summer. Today the minutes ticked by past the "witching hour" ~ the moments when I had expected DH home, then hoped he would be home, then started checking every car that drove by to see if it was someone delivering bad news. About half an hour later, the phone rang and the first thing my husband said was, "We're OK," [and you always know this comes before the "but"] "but I'm going to be late."

So, so, so grateful today. Trying to focus on what I have instead of what I don't. I'll be happy when this summer is over.

Fundraiser For Brian Stow

If you follow much of the EMS world, you may have heard of the SF Giants fan who was beaten in the parking lot on opening day at Dodger stadium.  He is a paramedic in the San Francisco Bay Area (near The Happy Medic's stomping grounds) and a father of two young kids.  There has been a huge outpouring of financial support from all sorts of places, including SF Giant's pitcher Tim Lincecum today announcing he is donating $25,000.  You can read about them all on the Support4Stow blog.

I was excited to see a fundraiser that speaks my language: jewelry.  Stella & Dot Jewelry, to be specific.  Go to the Support4Stow blog to see all the ways you can donate, or head straight to Stella & Dot for 100% of the commission on your purchase to be donated to Mr. Stow's family.

In Case Of...

Did anyone watch The Bachelor this week?  If you haven't, SPOILER ALERT.  It's been a few days so I don't think I'll spoil anything for those who actually care by telling you that Brad (the bachelor) went to visit his four remaining ladies at their hometowns.  One of the Chantals is from Chico, California, and she helps run the family funeral home.  Her hometown date with Brad started off in the funeral home.  Talk about a romance killer.

At one point, Brad admitted that he is really uncomfortable with death, and never likes to say goodbye to anyone... well, can I hammer it home any more, dear readers?  Death is certain.  Life is UNcertain!  sheesh.  No big surprise that after Chantal had him lay on one of the embalming tables and showed him all her embalming tools, she did not get a rose at the rose ceremony.  No big surprise, none at all... Serious romance killer.

But when you're a law family, death is a little more... acceptable? Accepted? Talked about?  I don't know, maybe it's not, but it should be.  At one time I had a list of all the things that should be in my husband's End Of Watch (EOW) folder.  Who to call, what he wants, what to do, important papers, all that jazz.  Really, if you are breathing (which you are, if you are reading this) you should have a folder like this, LEO or not.

So in that vein, I thought I'd share with you a recent post on Unclutterer: In Case of Death... There are some very basic suggestions as to what you should have all in a centralized location (in your "love drawer" or "legacy drawer" as referenced to Dave Ramsey).  There are also a lot of good tips in the comments section, so read that too. 

Have you done this yet?  Do you think you will (no matter if you "should")? Some people just "can't" or "won't" do it.  What LEO specific items would you suggest adding to that folder?

Heartbroken

I'm heartbroken that no one has shared any of their family traditions!  On the heels of all that jewelry talk (that so many of you had so much to say about!), I figured for sure a few of you would chime in.  But that's OK, I'll live.

Seriously, that's not the reason I'm heartbroken, though.  I'm about to dive in to some really sad stuff and I had to start off with a little bit of levity.

It's no surprise that our husbands see the lowest of the low on a regular basis.  That's part of the job description.  I realize that I hear very little of what my husband processes every week on the job.  I used to lap up every tidbit of information he would share after shift, but as time has passed.... I don't get as much info anymore.  There are plenty of reasons for that.  It's more "normal" now.  It's second nature.  "Everything" is not new and exciting and crazy and I don't desperately wonder about every moment he is on shift any more, and he has even less of a need to share it now.  I can count on him sharing the highlights, but other than that, I know there is lots of stuff that just goes by.  And I'm OK with that.

So when my husband walks in the door after shift and starts spewing words of the venomous kind before he even has his shoes off, I immediately know it's been a bad day.

That happened recently, and it was heartbreaking.

I'm really proud of my husband, in that he thinks like a "bad guy" all the time, even more than most other cops we know.  He drives me nuts sometimes.  He's always thinking tactically -- the best way to approach on a car stop if he wants to give the bad guy the easiest way to kill him (and he promptly does the opposite); why you should or shouldn't enter a building this way or that way... honestly I can't even think of all the things to list here because I've heard them so many times, I just kind of let it go in one ear and out the other.  Lots -- but not all -- cops do this, too; but they all should.

So when he came home and was sharing heartbreak after heartbreak, it really got to me.  I wouldn't say "mistake" ~ because I am 100% against doing the whole "Monday Morning Quarterback" routine on any well-trained individual who has a fraction of a millisecond to decide if he should do x, y, or z before killing someone or getting killed himself. In every situation there are plenty of other, better options you can think of after-the-fact.  It doesn't matter.  It was all heartbreaking.  Every few minutes he would pause and say "Hm, I probably can't tell you that..."

There's no one in my life that would understand all the things he told me.  And besides, with all those caveats he kept throwing in I wasn't sure what I could and couldn't say to anyone I would talk to.  So I'm telling you.  I'm heartbroken.

Hug your special people tighter.  Send your special one off to work with extra love.  And support them when they spew their venom.  How else can you help them see the best of life, when all they regularly see is the worst?

Photo credit JerryFergusonPhotography on Flickr

End of Watch (the non-LEO type)

She was the heartbeat of her family, and a gracious gift to any community in which she found herself.  She hosted a baby shower at her home, in the room she and her husband had built for "company."  They had carefully chosen easy-to-clean floors, pleasant lighting, and durable (yet attractive) surfaces so they could host many others in their home as a gift to those around them.

She was so much, to so many, although many would have called her odd.  She ate differently (no sugar? no dairy? eww) than most.  She spoke differently than many.  And she definitely dressed as though she were from a different era.  But she was clothed in a radiance from her heart and life that spoke volumes about her priorities, her loves, and what really, truly mattered in life.

It's been a while since I last spoke with her.  I always found it difficult to chat with her because she tenderly poked me in the places it hurt most; in my failing relationships, my bitterness, and my anger.  But she was tender.  And gracious.  And those "hurts" didn't painfully scab up when she poked them.  They bled a little, but they healed with her tender poking and prodding.  Her honesty!  oh, what painful, beautiful honesty she always brought!

This is a true story, and as you notice, it's written in the past tense.  I received an email today informing us that this dear woman has passed away and is in the company of God and angels at this very moment. For that, I am grateful.  For knowing her, for being poked and prodded and served by her, I am grateful.  I am sad for her family, for the marching on they will do.  Her children are around the age I was when my dad passed away, and I ache for them.

She wasn't a LEO, or a LEO wife, but it was a slap in the face for me to remember....  Is my life in order?  Would anyone say anything half as nice about me when I pass away?  I have a choice every day.  Do I make the best of my choices?  I may be wishing for "tomorrow" or "another" day, but today is the day I have.  Do I make the most of it?  Are my "end of watch" papers in order?  Are my husband's?  It's not morbid, it's reality.  I believe I've said it here before, but I'll say it again.  Many of us live as though death is uncertain, when in fact, it's LIFE that is uncertain and DEATH is certain.  The day may be unknown, but it's coming.  I want to do all I can while I am able.  I hope you do too.

Rest in peace, sweet, sweet child of God.

One thought

Today I had a mild panic attack when I realized I didn't know if my mom had thrown away a special set of my dad's shirts.

I mentioned my dad in my last post, so maybe he's just been on my mind lately.  Actually, I know he has been.  Yesterday I got really angry when I thought about him missing my life.  Wha.....??!  I mean, that feels so out of left field I can't even say the entire word "what."  I'm not angry at him, it's not like it was his fault.  I'm not angry at God, either.  Just.... angry.  Then sad.  Then confused about why it matters at this point.  When would it be "ok" for your parent to die?  If you are 45 years old and your dad was 65 or 70, is that "ok"?  Is that "fair"?  No anger required?  Or...?  I'm really at a loss.  I can't imagine anyone ever dying and my being OK with it.  This is a mind game at this point but it's an interesting idea. 

My mom took a while but after he died, but she did get rid of my dad's clothes in a pretty healthy and timely manner.  She saved a laundry basket full of shirts that were so "him."  It was always business casual for him, more or less.  He had plenty of suits (which he did wear more than "occasionally"), but there are plenty of shirts that I would take one look at and they would scream DAD to me.  You know the ones.  My husband has a bunch of shirts like that.  Whether they like it or not, the men in my life have a signature style.  No, I didn't say they are stylish, just have a signature style.  :)

So I realized I need some of those shirts.  I need to do something with them.  I called up my mom and she really didn't have time to talk, but I asked if she still had the shirts and she said "Yup, they are in my husband's closet."  (Talk about weird, but hey! It works for him and I'm grateful.)  One of the best things was that my mom made my garter-to-keep for my wedding out of material from one of those shirts.  I'm really glad I have that.  It made me cry when I opened it at my bridal shower and I think everyone there was a bit surprised by such a strong reaction to a garter.  There's always a story, though, isn't there?

Anyhow.... that's that.  Pondering lots of things these days.  What's going on in your neck of the woods?

what is it?

If you follow me on twitter, you may have noticed that all my familia (small though it may be) was in town for a long weekend of birthday extravaganza-ing.  It was a good excuse; a few birthdays, some babysitting needs I had, extra airline credit to use up.... all converged for a convergence of my family in our town.  It was wonderful.

The not-so-wonderful thing was that my mom's husband was there.  The wonderful thing is, he's a wonderful guy.  Are you confused yet?  There's nothing wrong with him, really.  In fact he is amazing.  But he's my mom's husband.  Not my dad.  My dad, who has never met my husband or my three children and knows nothing of my current life.  If you've been reading for a while, you may remember that I memorialized the 13th anniversary of my dad's death this year. He died of a brain tumor.

My dad's five brothers, bless their hearts, were terrified about dying themselves from a brain tumor.  I don't know if their concern over their own mortality led them to be really crappy during that time in our lives or they are just generally crappy people.  Since they are related to my great dad, I'm going to go with the former.  Anyway.  So all that was a long time ago.  Now, one of my uncles has basically ruined his life and has been in the hospital for a few months.  He's behaved in such a way as to throw his life away, when my dad more than likely would have given anything to keep his.  It's so complicated ~ isn't it always? ~ but it makes me so sad.

This weekend, my grandma facebook messaged me.  Yes, my 70-something-years-old grandma!  She wanted to tell me "before it gets all over facebook" that another one of my uncles has cancer.  It's so odd.  It may not be a brain tumor, but it's definitely another way to face your own mortality.  I'm aching for my aunt and my cousins.  I'm aching for my grandma, who has already lost a husband and son, and is facing the distinct possibility of losing two more. 

Then I get frustrated.  I'm of the camp that 'if it's your time to go, it's your time' and it may be from cancer, gangrene, a car crash or a 15-pound hail ball, but....you're gonna go.  Death is inevitable!  It's just that these illnesses force us to stare death in the face, while we might normally do a very good job of relegating it to a small corner behind us.  It's another good reminder, even for me who really isn't skittish about death, to get my house in order.  How about you?  Are you 'ready'?

And so it goes...

I've been pretty weepy lately.  It could be a million things but it's made it a little hard to blog about much lately.  You'd either get the totally horrendous version of me or the very hilarious version of me.  And neither are really the truth right now.  So, you're getting nothing'.  ;)

But on my mind (and conveniently I can type about this because I'm procrastinating on the billion other things I'm supposed to be doing to prep for tomorrow) is yesterday.  Yesterday was the 13th anniversary of my dad's death.  I remember that first year after he died.  The milestones hung out like huge boulders signifying another day walked without him. I counted 7 days -- one week.  Four weeks -- one month.  Two months.  Three months.  One year.  I didn't think I could take it.  I couldn't even imagine my life five years out.  But 13?  Never in a million years could I imagine myself here, now, with so much less pain than I felt then. 

It used to be that I would count the days until the next milestone.  I would flip the calendar to "April" and think about the slightly-less-than-four weeks I had to mentally prepare myself for the Big Day.  This time I gave it a few fleeting thoughts as I knew it was "APRIL" but for some reason I got slapped in the face with the actual date mid-morning.  I hate when I do that.  I really prefer it when I go to sleep remembering that tomorrow is the day and I can wake up prepared to not be sucker-punched in the gut because I've pushed it to the back of my mind.

That first Big Day I took the day off work.  I tentatively called a few family members, making small talk and asking eventually "Are you OK today?" dripping with the heaviest of implications.  Each one knew exactly why I had called and answered in their own way.  My dumb brother -- did he actually say "yeah, whatever"?  I can't remember but it was something equally noncommittal, if it wasn't that.  Then again, what do you expect from a 14-year-old?  I stopped by my favorite ice cream shop (couldn't actually hit Baskin-Robbins, Dad, sorry!) and took my journal to one of my favorite gardens waaay up the hill.  I found a secluded spot; I sat and cried and looked out across the great expanse and had our little chat.  Don't worry, I don't really talk to dead people but it made me feel better.  :)   Years later my future husband proposed to me near that same park.  It's a special place.

Year Five it worked out so that I was together with my mom.  We went to a special old-time family spot, enjoying the view and specifically remembering Dad.  It was sweet, and it was huge. 

Now my mom is remarried.  I'm married.  I have kids.  I have this list of things I've accomplished that he wasn't here to share in.  Life is different and other interesting people, things, and hobbies have come to fill in the empty gash that he left; a gash of varied shape but that each of us in the family has in some way.  I read "A Grief Observed" by C.S. Lewis a million times.  I've searched the sadness of my memories and cry any time someone else tells me they have lost a dear one to death.  It doesn't matter if I know the deceased, but somehow my tender heart can mourn with them. 

I wouldn't be like that if I hadn't lost my dad -- and eventually both grandfathers, an uncle, two cousins, and a few friends -- in rapid succession.  Who are you?  How did you become who you are?  Are you soft and tender-hearted?  (Even under that tough guy, rugged shell?)  Do you know without a doubt that the important people in your life KNOW they are important?  Are you "ready to go"?  Just because you're ready doesn't mean you will actually, um, kick the bucket.  It's just called "being prepared."  Do you go in to a gun battle without preparation?  I don't think so.

The only thing that's certain in life is death.  Do you live without regret?  We mostly live as though life is certain and death is uncertain, but that's completely wrong.  It will be much more difficult to forgive or reconcile or truly live if one of the involved parties is... dead.  I know I'm being extremely blunt but it's true. If there is one gift you can give yourself, this can be it.  Do you know how freeing this can be to know that you did the right thing when time was up?  You can call your mom THIS SECOND and tell her how much  you appreciate her.  Yeah, she's your mom and maybe she did kind of screw you up but she gave birth to you and cared for you in ways which you cannot comprehend.  Or go call someone else.  Write a note.  Skip the email, write it in your own chicken scratch.  Your mom/dad/aunt/uncle/cousin/friend/grandparent/super friend will thank you.

Did you already miss your chance to make it right with someone who is now gone?  Well, buck up, my friend.  Know that you can move forward and have a choice -- you can make the same mistake twice (or three times or four times) or you can work more diligently to get it right this time.

Do you know...

What happened to copswife at Married2theLaw ?

Her blog is gone! :(

Tragic Day Epitomizes a Police Wife's Fears

I couldn't have said it better myself. In anguish for these police wives and families, LAPD_Wife has hit the nail on the head: Tragic Day Epitomizes a Police Wife's Fears

Another Fallen Officer

This is a tragedy and, again, senseless. Please join me in praying for this officer's family and the Seattle Police Department.

Link here:
Seattle officer killed; police searching for suspects