I look back at my own words over the last year and see the recurring theme; how to handle being a LEOW. How to handle constant change, how to be flexible, how to maintain your sanity in the face of your own fears; how to stay calm through adversity.  I talk about being patient, being kind, being forgiving. I’ve talked about learning to give before expecting to receive. I’ve talked about the rewards received when you eliminate selfishness from your mentality.  I’ve talked about having faith, being honest, owning your own faults, accepting your weaknesses and growing through them until they become strengths.  I’ve talked about being strong, being independent, being capable. I’ve talked about letting go and letting God. I’ve talked about knowing your limits, knowing when to step back, take a break, allow your LEO to be your backup, your superhero.

 

I’ve found myself at that end of the spectrum, that place where you realize you are all about preaching and not practicing, all about supporting and not accepting; all about helping others to find their way while you stand still on a dead end road.  I’ve found myself being forced to acknowledge the vast difference between wants and capability; the difference between your dreams of change, your hopes and visions of a better future; your belief that somehow, someway the world can still be stirred enough to evolve……and the reality that all you’ve dreamed of is as easy to reach as lassoing the moon.

 

I’ve realized that regrets are useless until they invoke enlightenment. I’ve realized that enlightenment without the next leap of fate is futile. I’ve come to terms with the fact that failure is a part of everyday reality, but it is the knowledge and strength you gain from failure which drives you to determined achievement.

 

I’ve learned that you can never change the past, but the future is always in your own hands.  I’ve learned that self-pity is nothing more than fear of accomplishment. I’ve learned that low expectations are a form of personal protection. I’ve learned that forgiveness is more about allowing yourself to move forward than allowing those who have hurt you to be free from guilt they most likely never possessed.  I’ve learned that goals and aspirations are attainable only as long as you ignore those who desire to relish in your demise.  I’ve learned you are only as worthy as the worth you see in yourself. I’ve learned ambition is tireless and complacency is deadly. 

 

I’ve learned that moments are to be treasured, memories are made of moments, true love is unconditional and time does not heal all wounds. I’ve learned that loving unconditionally is not always painless but is always prosperous, although not always realized in the manner you expected.  I’ve learned at times you must walk away from what you have always known in order to find the path which has been right in front of your eyes. I’ve learned that faith is blind and requires you to trust your own instinct.  I’ve learned honesty is always the best policy as without it you are continually falsifying your own character.  I’ve learned character is defined not only by actions but by intent.  I’ve learned that owning your faults is the best path to conquering your own personal obstacles. I’ve learned acceptance of self is the first step to personal growth.  I’ve learned that facing your fears is a step towards peace. I’ve learned that peace only comes from resignation of the past and the release of fault, whether by others or yourself.  I’ve learned that contentment is priceless and gratitude is invaluable.

 

One thing I’ve left to learn is how to accept that which cannot be changed.  How to relinquish control of what you thought you knew as truth. How to resign yourself that time only moves forward and regardless of how forgiving and accepting and tolerable you are, it is still that which can never be changed that haunts us.   And it is then that you find yourself right back where you started, relearning all you have come to know again….until you make peace with yourself and are able to let go, forever learning, forever growing. We can always do better.

A status popped up on my personal feed today. It was posted by a good family friend, an Oklahoma deputy who is an amazing  husband and daddy to three little ones. Like many little boys who have a mommy or daddy in law enforcement, Eric's little boy looks up to his daddy....his hero.  And when I read his status it stopped me cold...because for the first time, I think it truly hit me, that I could relate.   It has only been in the last year that I have had thoughts that I cannot wait until my husband has his twenty-five in and in the meantime I will continue to try and convince him we can make it somehow financially if he gets out at twenty. It has only been in the past year or so that I began to sincerely hope and pray our son loses his interest in law enforcement.   It has only been in the last year or so that I've had pangs of fear in thinking my son would follow in his father's footsteps.  And to be honest, it saddens me greatly to have those feelings.

The following is a copy of the status which Deputy Eric Haskins posted tonight.  I think it speaks volumes.  And in a way, I think it's a sad truth for many of us.   I pray to God it changes.  We need to get back to the days when children saw law enforcement officers as heroes and when parents taught children from an early age that respect for authority is a good thing. We need to get back to the place where police officers instill thoughts of safety and refuge and protection to the masses and where the sensationalized glorification of every bad deed by an officer isn't sought out for a rise in ratings by mainstream media. We need to get back to the day when a cop delivering a baby on the side of the road or a deputy helping the elderly make it across the street or a trooper allowing kids to remain cool in their cruiser while changing a tire for a stranded mother is newsworthy and how the public perceives us because our actions allow nothing else to be considered.  We need to get back to the days where the public doesn't condemn us all for the actions of a few.  I pray those days return, but I fear they will not....and therefore, I fear for the future generations of law enforcement.  It amazes me that it seems to escape those bound and determined to eliminate the thin blue line... as if there's been no consideration for the anarchy which would become without the peacekeepers.
~Mel


by Deputy Eric Haskins
My Son: Dad, I want to be a Deputy just like you when I grow up.

Me: NO!!!

Son: But I really want to help people, like you, and get bad guys.

Me: No!!!

Years ago, I would dream of my son following in my footsteps. Ferguson has once again instilled in me that I want none of my children following my footsteps. I refuse to let my kids be judged in the court of public opinion by people who have never put on a shield and stood toe to toe with evil. I render no opinion on the shooting itself, but once again a sector of the population has risen up to vilify someone for a choice that was made under duress. A choice that the individual has to live with the rest of his life. Is nobody asking what choices the young man made that put him in that situation? I mean from all accounts, I believe that almost everybody agrees that he was the suspect reported from the robbery, right?

That officer put on his armor, went to work and stood his ground against a documented strong armed robbery suspect. A suspect whose pictures simply portray a young man in a cap and gown, because the state sponsored media refuses to post the pictures of him throwing gang signs and pointing a pistol at the camera. Three teens killed a person in this state for fun, but because the color scheme was reversed, the media largely ignored it.

The Attorney General of the United States visited the family. The President of the United States spoke to the family. Trayvon Martin's mother posted an open letter in Time magazine all but calling for increased violence.

Why was the same not done with the officer? Because the administration itself encourages the drama. It's good for business, takes the attention off the man behind the curtain.

"if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land." (2 Chronicles 7:14 NIV)

There's a new challenge in town. A challenge to all those who love a law enforcement officer.  The challenge comes in the wake of the wave of condemnation, distrust, apathy and hatred for so many in law enforcement, when there is no validity to justify it.  Those of us in the law enforcement community are accustomed to such hatred. There's nothing new about the media sensationalizing every bad cop story they can get their hands on and ignoring every good cop story under the pretense of "that's their job and my tax dollars pay for that".   Well, here's the deal.... 99.9999% of officers are remarkable men and women who put their lives on the line daily in order to save the lives of innocents.  Those officers will lay down their lives without hesitation for one of their own in need, or for a citizen whose life is in danger.  However.... there is a growing misguided opinion amongst the public that there's not much more to an officer than the badge on their chest and the power it holds..... and that is the farthest thing from the truth. 

THE CHALLENGE IS THIS:  TELL WHO YOUR OFFICER (OR THE ONE YOU KNOW AND LOVE) REALLY IS ASIDE FROM THE BADGE.  I accept the challenge started by LEOW Davina Agee, and I challenge each and every officer spouse, partner, loved one, friend and family member to do the same.  Use the hashtag #leowchallenge and continue the challenge by tagging friends, family and supporters of LE to take the challenge.

The Officer in my life is my husband, and this is who he really is....
(and being an advocate for law enforcement, I'm including who my officer is, including the badge).

Officer Bervis Littles of the Edmond, OK Police Department is a 17+ year veteran patrol officer. He is also a suicide prevention officer, and QPR (suicide prevention) instructor. He is a member of the Crisis Intervention Team.  He is an FTO and LEDT instructor, a hostage negotiator, lake patrol officer, SRO and member of the honor guard team.   He grew up in poverty on the south side of Oklahoma City never knowing or meeting his father.  His mother worked numerous jobs to make ends meet and he spent a lot of his time being cared for by other family members while his single mother was doing her best to care for her children.  He saw drugs and crime and violence on his local streets....  He worked in order to help his mother and make a way for himself to attend college. He pursued his lifelong dream of becoming a police officer and has been an officer for over 17 years.  He is a father, a brother, a son, a husband, and a best friend to many.  He has three grown step-children, two girls in college and a son with autism, dysphagia and seizure disorders.  He has a work ethic like nothing I've ever seen.  He's missed virtually every holiday, birthday and anniversary I can remember because he will do what it takes to provide for his family and he refuses to leave a shift shorthanded. 

He has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever seen.  There are countless times our checking account has been overdrawn while waiting for payday and he has used the last bit of security money in his pocket to put gas in the car of a stranded single mother.  He has had to remove countless children from domestic situations and sickening home environments and he quickly pulls a stuffed animal from his trunk, asks the child what music he/she likes, then drives them to get a meal before having to hand them over to the state.  It is those same nights you will find him lingering in the hallway of our home at 3am while he gazes into the bedroom of our son, while holding back tears for the babies he just left in a state of uncertainty.   He is the officer who is approached over a decade later by a man who approaches him seemingly out of nowhere to say "You are Officer Littles, you held my sister's hand while she was dying on the roadway. She was pregnant and scared and dying and alone...... and you never left her side".   He is the same officer who will choke back his emotions immediately after an encounter like that, squeeze my hand and simply say "I need to get out of here...now".   You see, he's not allowed to be human in the public eye.  He's just a badge.  He's worthless.  He's aggressive.  He's violent.  He's a bully.  He's got a chip on his shoulder.  He's looking for a reason to kill someone.    Nothing is farther from the truth. 

He's the big strong man whose cried in my arms after losing a child.  He's the arrogant cop I've had to wake in the midst of nightmares more nights than I can remember..... and upon waking he says "I couldn't get to them quick enough".  He's the officer who works over 80 hours per week, comes home exhausted and lays in the floor to play with his son.  He's the big tough guy who had certain dreams and goals and hopes for his only son, only to have to accept his son is autistic... and he immediately embraced it and took on the attitude of "what do we do to help our son be all he can be?"  He is the man who encouraged me to quit my job in the legal field, knowing it was more than his income, knowing how devastating it would financially be, but who put more value on me being with our son for evaluations and therapies and surgeries and homeschooling, even though it meant even more sacrifice for himself in order to pay the bills.  He is the man who took his mother in to live with us and support financially so she could enjoy some sort of retirement.  He is the father who still helps his daughters who are in college by paying their cell phone and insurance bills.  He is the officer who will get a call from a friend while he is off duty...keys locked in a car, locked out of your house, problems with your teenager?? Call my husband....he's your man. 

He's the school resource officer who will get discredited after seventeen years on the street for becoming a "babysitter", even though he has more arrests and drug busts and thefts in the schools than he ever did on the streets. He will take the time to mentor every child in those schools who were just like him growing up.....no father, no money and a feeling of hopelessness and he will encourage them and guide them and make them promise him they won't give up on themselves. 

He's the officer who takes the time to talk with those he is obligated to arrest. He will ask them how they ended up in his back seat, he will not be so quick to judge them for their actions but will encourage them to ask themselves what they can do to change their own lives.

He's the love of my life.  He's the man who came into my life after I was married to a bad cop.  He's the one who showed me that his character defined him, not his badge.  He is the man who showed me love I never thought possible.  He's the man who loved me back to life.  He's the father of my son, he's my best friend, he's my world.  He's the one I beg and plead and pray will be returned to me at the end of his shift.  He's the one I want to grow old with.....not grow old remembering. 

This is who my officer truly is.  Please..... please take note before hating him without knowing him. 

To all the LEOWs and to those who love an officer..........please...... tell me about yours.

~Mel
Melissa Littles, Founder,
The Police Wife Life.

"Sometimes there's justice, sometimes there's just us".

Sure seems to be true lately.  Almost a million law enforcement officers in the country, yet the attention is on one. One human being, who wears the badge, who has been prematurely convicted by the media and a hypocritically pathetic, isolated group of misguided individuals.  Sadly, the way sensationalized news works in this country, the attention will remain on one.  And here's the thing.... that one, Officer Darren Wilson, is all of us.  He is literally "just us". 

When one officer comes into the spotlight in this country, it instantly becomes representative of us all.  "All Cops"... how many times can we hear that?  Yes, now my husband is Officer Wilson, and every female officer is Officer Wilson, and every other officer is Officer Wilson and every police wife is married to Officer Wilson.  When a "bad cop" story hits mainstream media and the public with nothing better to do..... the entire thin blue line becomes Officer Wilson.

Isn't it ironic how that only works one way?  There were countless acts of heroism and life saving efforts and compassion and kindness and service to the communities across this country over the past week.  There are officers being placed in life threatening situations in Ferguson who have nothing to do with the anger which is being spewed due to the hatred of Officer Wilson.  There are multiple officers who were shot, mowed over, and even lost their lives while honoring their commitment to protecting and serving their communities all across the US in the past week..... yet all we hear about is Officer Wilson.

And here's the thing..... that's alright.  It's alright because right now there's "just us" and right now we're all Officer Darren Wilson has.  We're his family and his family's family.  And every other brother and sister of the thin blue line is doing just what they do... "we've got your back".  They have his six, and they have each others.  Each and every member of the thin blue line family is more than willing to take a stand for Officer Darren Wilson, and we do so, not based on disregard for the law, not based on disregard for the pending investigation, but because he has been convicted by many without the process leading to justice.  That leaves "just us" to stand for him.

Across this nation in the past week we have done as we always do.  Our officers have strapped Kevlar on their chests and a duty weapon on their sides and have charted into the same territory which places a target on their characters and backs simply for taking a daily stance against the evil and madness which would seek to cause mayhem and tragedy upon the lives of innocents.   There are many outside of "just us" who do, in fact, support us. They pray for the safety of our LEOs and they themselves fear the misguided collective hatred for "just us".

Yes, something happens to "just us" during times like these.  We realize how alone we are, we are reminded just how much judgment there is from those who could never understand without walking in our shoes.  Yet, we are also reminded of what a remarkable line that is which stands between good and evil.   It is times like this that our pride is restored and we forget about the politics and bad morale and defeating feelings which are brought on when it seems the world is against us.  We stand together for what's right, regardless of copious amounts of idiocy being aimed at us all. 

Times like these can easily invoke emotions in us all which leave us questioning what the hell we were thinking about when we dove into this crazy life of law enforcement.... however, if we remain focused, and we push aside our fears and frustrations and anger and anguish, we can look into this chaotic world and easily remember why we're all here.  Because there's "Just us".   Who else will be "just us"?  Without our LEOs to walk that line and stand between good and evil, we would all be in a constant state of anarchy.  

At any moment, any officer can become Darren Wilson.  It takes a split second.  I would say we all need to remember that when we get sick and tired of the ridiculousness which has become of it..... however, I don't have to say that.  Officer Darren Wilson needs us to stand for him and we all know he would do the same for each one of  "just us". 

Prayers for strength, safety and a huge dose of patience for all our LEOs and LE families today.

~Mel

This is a follow up post from my Ferguson Riots, As seen from a different point of view post. 

A week has passed since the death of M. Brown.  Although new information continues to come to light, there are still many unanswered questions.  We now know the name of the officer who shot the deceased. We have now seen video surveillance tape of the deceased participating in a strong armed robbery just prior to his death. We have an admission from his friend who was with him that they indeed participated in the strong armed robbery just prior to his death.  We also have the words of the Ferguson Chief of Police that the strong armed robbery was unrelated to the death of M. Brown.  We have numerous accounts from eye witnesses and hearsay accounts from those close to the officer.  We have a sketchy recording of an unidentified bystander who witnessed the shooting which seems to corroborate the hearsay testimony of those close to the officer.  What we still do not have are any conclusive investigative results which corroborates either side's version, and therefore, despite any of our rushes to judgment, in reality, we are all as we began....waiting.  That being said, just as in my first post, I will not be commenting on the guilt or innocent theories in my own head, and will be addressing matters which have caused my head to spin in the past week.

In my first article on the Ferguson riots I made it clear I was posting from the view of being a white woman who is married to a black police officer. I also stated that our children are bi-racial.  I am writing this article based on the same perspective, as it is the only perspective I can have. It is who I am, and it is who we are as a family.

I have read countless postings and watched countless news stories and press releases over the past week.  One theme seems to resonate - sensationalized bandwagon jumping.  The media is guilty of it. Citizens are guilty of it. Politicians are guilty of it and organized groups are guilty of it.  I've done my best to not jump the same bias bandwagon of my choice and I will be the first to own, it's difficult for me.  My husband is an officer and I do not like what I am seeing aimed at law enforcement as a WHOLE, rather than at the individual officer involved. Likewise I am having a difficult time reconciling how those who are demanding justice have already condemned this officer before the facts are conclusive, when they are taking such a devout view that is was prejudgment that led to the death of M. Brown.

In my previous post I stated that racism is alive and real in this country, and it most certainly is.  Being a white woman married to black police officer with mixed race children, one of who has special needs, and living in the bible belt of America in a relatively affluent suburb, I can assure you I have experienced racism on many occasions and on many levels.

I have been approached by white women at Wal-mart who have thanked me for adopting my "poor little black boy".  I have been approached by black women who have given their snide comments that I "took another black man off the market".  I have been told countless times by white people "Oh, I saw your husband on his police motorcycle yesterday", and I have witnessed my husband experience racism on more levels that I could put into words.   I have had people in the waiting area of hospitals and doctor's offices ask me if I am a caretaker for the special needs child with me..."you know, like foster care?", and I have been told that mixing the races "gave that boy the autism".

First of all.... I never knew the adoption agency had access to my uterus and should they have asked to deliver the little black boy via my birth canal I would have taken issue with that.  I "got" that little black boy the old fashioned way, thanks very much.   Secondly, although he was extremely attractive, I did not tote my Glock into the police department, place it to my husband's head and force him "off the market" and into a relationship with me, nor did I force him to procreate with me, nor am I responsible for why he's never dated or married a black woman, he seems to have a mind of his own and is in fact, a grown ass man.  You will have to take up that question with him.  I'm sure glad he chose me.  Thirdly, you have never seen my husband on a police motors unit... he is not a motors unit officer and never has been.  There IS however, a black officer in our city (one of only four out of over 100 officers) that is a motors cop.... so you actually saw a black officer on a police motorcycle... I know... easy mistake... especially in this town where there's only four black officers who look exactly alike (sarcasm intended).  And as far as "mixing the races" being a cause of autism.... how about dysphagia? and seizure disorders? Our son has that as well, so I just need to know if I should check into that.... and could you explain all the white and asian and latino and "legit all black" kids with autism?  How did that happen to them?   Oh... and when you get pulled over by a black cop and you happen to be white, using the whole "he hates white people" really comes off as ignorant when the screen saver in his patrol unit includes the photo of his white wife and bi-racial children. But you didn't ever consider that, did you?   And when you take your ass up to the high school where my husband has arrested your black child and before you've ever laid eyes on my husband have spouted off with your loud mouth to school administration that the "pig" is picking on another young black male....you might want to actually SEE the school resource officer before stating such ignorance.... I know, easy mistake to make in a yuppy town with only four black cops on the payroll, but turns out not everything is about your kid being black, sometimes it's just about his illegal drug use and theft.

Yes..... I KNOW RACISM.  I know it well.  As a mother to a child who no one would identify as "mixed" without seeing me with him, I too know about the fears of my child being profiled by the police.  I have no doubt that if my child were a teenager, wearing a hoodie, walking the sidewalk, with a group of black teens, in our yuppy suburb, chances are someone would wonder what the hell those boys were up to.  And yes... I have no doubt whatsoever that it would only take one jackass whitey to call in the police saying a "gang" of blacks were doing all kinds of "things" out in the "streets".  That's a very real possibility for my son and I have genuine concerns about it.   HOWEVER..... (there's the but)  here's what I don't understand....

How in the world are those members of the black community who are perpetrating violence and mayhem against innocents and law enforcement in general helping??  How can anyone justify chanting death threats to the officer when they themselves are in an upheaval over the death of another young black man? How can anyone jump to the conclusion that this officer just decided to take out a man in the middle of the street, in front of multiple witnesses, in broad daylight, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.  How can anyone assume he has absolutely no humanity whatsoever?  How can anyone NOT even remotely ponder that he may have feared for his own life?  Not saying shooting M. Brown was justified, not saying there weren't other options....because we do not know yet.... but how can we justify the assumption that this officer after a life with no police record, while working in law enforcement, while having a known history of being a well liked, fair, just and honorable officer, just decided that day was the day to become a cold, calculated murderer??

It is those same people who are horrified that M. Brown was gunned down for simply being black, walking down the street.  We are to ignore it because he has no lengthy criminal history. We are to ignore the strong armed robbery committed just moments before his death. We are to ignore everything but his graduation photo and those with his family...... but can ANY SINGLE one of those wishing this officer dead say they would ignore the officer having multiple complaints of officer brutality?  Would they ignore if he had been placed on administrative leave in the past for an altercation with a black male....or even a white male for that matter.... after all, if we're all honest wouldn't we say without a doubt if this officer had beaten the shit out of others in the past that there would be signs and chants "HOW MANY??  WHEN IS ENOUGH??"   If we all own our own truth, we know better.  Should this officer had any past infractions in law enforcement those with hatred for him would be using it for all they could....... just as so many are using M. Brown's history as proof of his character.   It is human nature..... and so is denial of same.

I honestly believe there are a vast amount of members of all races, who are genuinely concerned with true justice for M. Brown.  They want the truth.  The whole truth.  And I truly believe once the facts are all known, that those sensible members of the melting pots of America will accept what is revealed and the justice which will be served.  If this officer was unjust in the shooting, I believe those with sense and sensibility will wholeheartedly agree he should be served justice accordingly. I also believe that there is a pocket of America who is not interested in any truth, regardless of what shall be, but simply their own agenda. 

To those who refuse to acknowledge truth, they will never acknowledge the facts which are the latest full year FBI Statistic compilation.  2,648 black Americans were murdered in the 2012 calendar year and of the 2,648 black murder victims, 2,412 were murdered by a member of their OWN RACE.   That leaves 193 murders of the 2,684 being carried out by a white person.  Additionally, in 2012, almost 500 more whites were killed than blacks.  Somehow, despite the facts, they will only see that white pigs are out to murder every black boy they see.... and no change can ever come from that.

Those who are promoting and inciting violence upon their fellow man, law enforcement in general, their communities and specifically chanting for the death of the officer, have done nothing but discredit themselves.  There is no worth in savagery. There is no justifying the destruction and mayhem.  Regardless of your plight, it will not work.

At the end of the day I can only speak my own truth.  I am a white woman, married to a black officer and today I fear for his safety from the black community, more so than from the skinheads and sovereign citizens who preach their hatred for not only blacks, but also the police.   My husband is an eighteen year veteran patrol officer.  He is a suicide prevention officer, a hostage negotiator, a crisis intervention officer, he leaves the streets nine months a year to work in the high schools. He makes it his mission to mentor young black men on the importance of making their own honest way in life, a life in which many cases is faced with racism.  He tells them his story of growing up in the same hood they did, with the same circumstances.  He tells them his truth of being one of only four black officers on a force of over a hundred...as in, it's not necessarily going to get easy for you.  He also teaches them that despite being a black man in today's society, there is no excuse for taking the wrong path. YOU and YOU alone are accountable for your actions.  You can only use your neighborhood as an excuse for so long. At some point you must own yourself.  And he teaches another truth..... racism will always be a part of your life.  As a black man you most likely will always be looked upon by many as less.  You may very well be profiled.  You may very well be judged by the color of your skin, but there is no one more powerful than YOU ALONE to change that and you and you alone dictate how much power you allow racism over your life.

Despite being an officer who has done nothing but honor his badge and dedicated his life to truly desiring to make a difference to his community, he is still judged..... I'm not sure which upsets me more?  That he is judged for being black or that he is judged and convicted simply because of the brass on his chest.  Perhaps I'm just tired of him being judged at all, as for police officers being judged goes way past the color of their skin. There is no other occupation which is systematically grouped and judged as a whole.  We never look to hold only those who are corrupt accountable....it's always "ALL" cops. My husband isn't ALL cops.  No officer is ALL cops.  And very few officers and families of officers have any sympathy for a bad cop.  There's not a corrupt cop out there that I can trust to take a bullet for my husband... and there's no doubt my husband would take a bullet for any of his brothers or sisters in blue.... as well as any stranger.  To anyone who tries to lessen my husband's character simply because of the badge he wears, your input is worthless.  I know very well who that man is, and he doesn't deserve to be gunned down simply for "signing" up to be hated.  "The only good cop is a dead cop".... that speaks volumes about our society.  If my husband encounters those willing to slaughter him in order to avoid arrest or simply because of their hatred, I pray to God he doesn't reach for a taser, or aim for a leg.  He's my world, and my children's world and if you expect me to hope "slowing down" a threat to his life is enough, then you've never spent a day in our shoes.

Despite the racism my husband encounters from his own race, and others, he refuses to compromise his character. He lives life with dignity in the face of adversity.  He refuses to stoop the the level of those who judge him.  If he encounters unfairness, he handles himself with dignity and abides by the laws he did not make, but agrees to follow as an American citizen.  If he is wronged, he goes about righting it legally, ethically, and morally..... he stands by his own truth and refuses to engage in anything which could reduce his character.  Despite the racism I encounter I choose to do the same and I choose to raise my young black son in the same manner.  Do I fear for him.... in some senses, yes. I do.  But I also know that the foundation I lay for him will help him remember to stand upon his own character, regardless of the lack of character of others.

In the past week I have seen such a growing misplaced hatred which is pointless with no hope for a change effecting outcome.  It is truly sad that this is the world we are leaving for our children.   There's not a single one of us who can honestly say we can't do better..... but there are so many who are completely unwilling to stop themselves and just do better.   Own your truth....act accordingly.  "Be the change you want to see in the world"..... it's not just a cliche quote we all read on the internet.  It holds worth.

Melissa Littles,
Founder, The Police Wife Life

My perspective on the Ferguson riots.
(This post was created before the release of the name of the officer involved and prior to the release of the video surveillance footage being released)

I’ve sat in silence, watching, listening; taking it all in. I’ve contemplated whether to speak on it or not. A news conference today sealed the deal.

Let’s start with the most pertinent fact of all….. Not one of us have all the facts at this point. Not the police. Not the family of the deceased. Not a single citizen - and certainly not anyone in Washington DC. There is absolutely no disputing that only two people are knowledgeable enough to form a concrete conclusion at this point regarding the circumstances which led up to the discharge of the officer’s weapon. One is the officer. One is the deceased.

The community is crying out for justice based solely on the “facts” that a white officer (whose identity has not been released) shot and killed an “unarmed black teen”. My first thought was - I sure hope he’s actually a white cop because if he turns out to be a light skinned Latino or Jewish or a mixed blend of Asian and Irish, this white vs. black rhetoric will sure need some tweaking. But I’m sure Al is all over the variables at this point. Secondly…. this was no “teen”. How many have EVER referred to our “teen soldiers”? They are very often times actually in their teenage years when sent abroad and we are sure to address them as “Young men”, “Brave men and women of the armed forces”, however…. put a black man of the same young age in a predicament which turns bad and he is suddenly a “teen”, “another young black youth gunned down”. He would never be addressed in that manner should he have been returning from Afghanistan in a flag draped coffin. Sadly, he most likely would have never made the news at all coming home as a young black man who gave his life to his country, as it’s more newsworthy in America to sensationalize a story about an “unarmed black teen” just as it is more newsworthy to sensationalize the actions of officers in a manner which convicts them before the facts are known.

I’m not going to address whether or not I believe the officer was justified or not, nor am I going to address whether or not I believe the actions of the deceased led to his death. I won’t because I can’t. I do not have all the facts and without them, I’m simply a hypocrite playing into idiocy and resulting mayhem. What I will address are my thoughts on what has resulted after the fact.

A police officer fired his weapon which resulted in loss of life. Much of those who are painting this officer as a murderer have clearly not considered some very basic and simple facts:

NO officer wishes to take a life. If you choose to dismiss that fact based on your belief that officers are blood thirsty ego maniacs on a trigger trip, slow your roll a moment and remember that an officer who discharges his weapon automatically puts him/herself in the worst position possible for their career. Every officer is accountable for every bullet of their career. Every bullet has the potential to end their career, devastate their livelihood, destroy their marriage, haunt their dreams and strip them of the only thing they can identify with in terms of making a living, which is being an officer. There are very few officers who can see themselves installing cable or working on cars or building furniture after the badge, much less see themselves in prison.

Officers are accustomed to being scrutinized on a micromanaged, microscopic level at all times. An officer’s life is played out on a live reel. Anywhere they go they are being watched. Everything they do is recorded. Everyone has a camera phone, most officers have body mic’s and dash cams. If you think that’s what officers deserve and need to help keep them in check, you might want to consider that the majority of officers hope and pray their actions are caught on some kind of recording, because if not, they are at the mercy of a public who in large part would take joy in their demise. How quickly the public assumes officers act annoyed at cameras in their faces as it must be a revelation of the truth! When in reality most officers are annoyed for the same reason the public is….. how would any of us react if a stranger approached us shoving cameras in our face as we go about our jobs? And if you are in a position in which every 53 hours one of your co-workers DIES doing their job, would you be a little more suspicious of a stranger approaching you? Think it through.

We don’t know yet what was caught on tape or film or body mic or dash cam due to the position of those involved at the time, however, we have witnesses! They happen to be friends with the deceased and according to much of those in support of the deceased, we should automatically take their account as valid and without distortion. A white cop murdered an unarmed black teen who had his hands in the air, surrendering. However, we shouldn’t even consider that the officer might have not chosen to take a life lightly. We are to assume a life meant nothing to him. We are to assume he had no second thoughts as to murdering another human. We are to assume he had no thoughts whatsoever about his career, his family, his livelihood, his future, his retirement, his potential of spending the rest of his life in prison, his morals, his religion, his own humanity….nor are we to think he might have thought twice as he was standing in front of witnesses. Not having all the facts prevent us from making concrete conclusions on any of it at this point. One thing we know for sure…. 99.9% of us know nothing more about the deceased than we do about the officer, yet in 99.9% of cases, we have all formed an opinion, and none of us are fully informed.

One fact that cannot be disputed is the pure idiocy of those behaving in a way which is destructive to innocents. Looting, destruction and acts of mayhem against a community and local businesses as a way to make a statement does nothing more than solidify the opinions of those looking in.

I’ve heard over and over directly from mouths being interviewed “It’s a black thing”…. No. no it’s not. It’s an ignorant thing amongst those who choose to label their own race as victims while they themselves commit illegal acts. There is no making it right. It’s a black thing? Where’s Bill Cosby? Where’s the black officers from that community? There’s three black officers on the payroll…. Where’s their new stolen tv? Oh, but wait… how do you address the black officers? How do you handle them in the black community? Are they exempt? Or are they just as corrupt as the white cops? Are we just going to sweep them under the rug because it doesn’t fit an agenda of a black community vs. white police force? I suppose we’ll call them sellouts since it works against this particular agenda? Are those rioting (not protesting, rioting) hurling Molotov cocktails at the police AFTER asking the black cops to get out of the way? Or is it ALL cops that deserve to be firebombed? That’s not racist in itself is it? Grouping an entire profession into one negative worthless category based on the actions of a few? But isn’t that what the black community is so upset about? Being grouped into one category based on the actions of a few? Or should we not even consider the actions of the few because after all, aren’t they acting as a result of being oppressed and prejudiced against for so long?? That excuses the actions of all, right? We’re tired of being profiled and prejudged and maligned so we’re going to act a straight up fool and ruin the businesses of hard working individuals who have nothing to do with our plight. THAT will give us the credit for our character that we are OWED. That, my friends, is not a black thing…. that’s a stupid thing.

There once was a boy who was born into a family he didn’t choose. He lived in a neighborhood he didn’t choose. He grew up in poverty he had no control over. He was surrounded by drugs and thieves and those who did what they felt they had to do to get by in a world which seemed to judge them all for absolutely no valid reason. His friends said they had no choice in making a living the way they did. His family struggled to find decent pay in a world which preferred another type of candidate. The police were often around his world, because his world was infested with the crime of those who professed to be forced into illegal activity because the white man was keeping them down. He grew up seeing racism, bias behavior, and anger, frustration and the wearing down of good people because of what they faced. He made a choice. He chose to live by the rules, even those that didn’t seem fair. He stayed in school despite the lure of easy money and the promise of a “family” that would never turn on him. He never assumed he was OWED a thing in this life other than the same opportunity that is given to others. He became a police officer. He has been an officer for almost 18 years. He’s a cop for the right reasons, and he happens to be black. He’s also my husband. And I happen to be white. My children happen to be black and they are being raised and taught by their black father that nothing in life is free, there are no handouts, your work ethic and morals dictate your future and you and you alone are accountable for your own actions. Accountability…..where oh where art thou?

There are despicable humans in this world. They come in all colors. There are corrupt, despicable police officers out there as well. There are officers who have profiled and wronged and abused and yes, murdered innocents. There is no excuse for justifying harm to any other officer based on the actions of the corrupt. If you claim you are sick of racism but you also blame “ALL” cops, you are a racist hypocrite. If you claim a black man was murdered by a white cop but you support harming officers not related to the incident in any way, you are a hypocrite. If you support police and believe that it is impossible that they make horrible decisions or bad mistakes or tragic misjudgments, or even callus, calculated injustices, you are naive. When rational common sense is replaced with collective bandwagons, all is lost.

People are sick of a militarized police nation but no one wants to accept what is bringing it on. How many gang bangers are fighting back with 22’s since the weapon of choice on the street became an assault rifle? But the police should use tasers and less lethal options and “aim at a leg” when they have absolutely no idea what is aimed at them 90% of the time. You want an officer to aim at a leg in a struggle when someone is trying to take possession of his weapon? Role reverse, then speak. Center Mass allows an officer and a soldier to see tomorrow. When a weapon is finally discharged, it is because other options are moot. Enough said.

Officers are aggressive and paranoid. YA THINK?! They are DYING while WORKING every FIFTY THREE HOURS. They are being ambushed simply sitting in their cars. They are being sought out, targeted and slaughtered by those they have never had a single dealing with. They are being shot at INSIDE their own precincts. Their home addresses and wives and babies are being exposed by criminals. They are being killed in their own driveways while off duty. “People are sick of corrupt police and taking action” Guess what….. GOOD COPS ARE SICK OF SEEING THEIR BROTHERS AND SISTERS SLAUGHTERED and are on high alert. It’s perfectly alright for the black community to start a hashtag campaign about what pic would be chosen “If they gunned me down” but it’s not acceptable to think an officer who sees one of his own die every other day might be a little on edge?? Oh, that’s right….they signed up for that, that eliminates their right to have intent to make it home alive. No one being profiled wants to take accountability for doing the very thing they are speaking against. Profiling all police based on the actions of some is prejudice.

A white plastic surgeon who was corrupt as shit killed a black woman. He killed many, actually. He was greedy. He was performing cheap surgery on innocent victims with no regard for their lives. Many died or were disfigured and left permanently injured. Where’s Al? Where’s the riots? Where’s the demand for justice against white plastic surgeons!?!? How absurd.

Where’s the outrage for the black officers who were ambushed and murdered by white felons?? Where’s Al? Better yet… where’s the outrage for the white officers ambushed and murdered by black felons, or white felons for that matter? Why aren’t the police wives and police unions of America marching and protesting and rioting in the ghetto and the white meth head trailer parks where the felons lived?! How absurd.

I’ve done over 100 tributes to fallen officers, many of them black, many of them murdered by white men, AND I’m married to a black cop…….where’s my free tv? Where’s Al? How absurd.

If we as a people TRULY want change the first thing we have to get back is accountability. Accountability for our own actions, without blame of others. OWNERSHIP of self-actions. Regardless of our race, regardless of our profession.

The media and every single person feeding off the absurd, half fact, ill informed, premature lack of factual basis to form any conclusion at this point are contributing to racism, violence and sweeping ignorance in this country. Racism is alive and real and I can promise you as a white woman married to a black man with a mixed special needs child I have seen racism on so many level it’s not even funny. I have experienced racism from black and white females. I have experienced racism because I am married to a police officer. I have experienced racism because my children are mixed. I have experienced racist ignorance as a mother of a special needs child……. And there is not ONE SINGLE PERSON ON EARTH that is responsible for ANYTHING in my life or how I live or what choices I make other than MYSELF.

I wholeheartedly feel compassion for the family of the deceased. No parent should ever have to bury their child. My prayers are with them. If the officer was in the wrong, I pray justice is served. If he was justified, I pray for humbleness and acceptance and peace. More than anything, I pray we all take a good hard look in the mirror and honestly ask ourselves how each and every contribution we make to this life lends worth. What we are fighting for loses all meaning when we do so without character.

As police families we should all hold ourselves accountable to an even higher standard. Each and every action as a police officer and as families of officers directly contributes to the positive or negative perception of law enforcement as a whole. We owe it to our own to live by the highest standards of integrity. We also owe it to the communities we are sworn to protect and serve. We can ALL DO BETTER. Regardless of the color of our skin or the occupation we hold – we should strive to make a positive contribution to humanity each and every day. We can all do better.

Prayers for peace and safety to all our officers who have been hurled into this mess, and to all the families who are praying them home.
~Mel
Melissa Littles, Founder
The Police Wife Life©

 “If you knew then what you know now, would you do it all again?” It’s a question asked by many at certain times in life.  It is a question asked of me, by many, about life as a wife of a law enforcement officer. Whether it is asked of those who are newly married into this life, or those considering it, or just those who ask out of simple curiosity, nonetheless, my answer never waivers.  However, in answering “yes”, one must know the reason why, and that reason goes far beyond what one might initially consider.

His heart is what drew me in, all those years ago.  I saw a man determined to make a difference, I saw a man, willing to lend a hand or an ear to a friend in need.  I saw someone dedicated to his family, someone who consistently put others above himself.  I saw a man with humility and dignity. I saw compassion and integrity.  And if I had known then what I know now, I think I would have had a whole other level of respect for him back then.  It doesn’t work that way though. For it is in the learning and living this life of law enforcement that those of us who love them come to understand just exactly what they endure, and it is then that as one who loves them you truly begin to understand what kind of men and women they must be to be able to keep their hearts from hardening, despite all the badge brings to their lives.

It is a life of constant “Catch 22’s” for those who are compelled to protect and serve.  The days have long since passed from a time when a Norman Rockwell painting of a Police Officer and a little boy at a soda fountain depicted the innocence of youth and the general consensus that in times of need, it is the peacekeepers who are there as the everyday heroes. 

As National Police Week is once again upon us, another year and so many more names of the fallen etched on that wall, and it is clear the tides have turned.  Back in those Norman Rockwell days we were aware that an Officer was willing to lay down his life in the line of duty. As we look at that wall today we know, the peacekeepers are in the midst of a war on American soil wherein more times than not, they themselves are the target, and to live that way, with a bulls eye on your back from those very people you are sworn to protect, well that is something which makes you fully aware of what those who protect and serve are dealing with.

As the spouse of a law enforcement officer, it is the knowledge of the truth which is my painful motivator.  It is in knowing the judgment and animosity which is aimed at the love of my life, the father of my children, which compels me to be the rock which holds his foundation in place. 

It is often said by those of us who love them, If you only knew what I know, if you could only see what I see, if you could only open your heart long enough to see past the brass on his chest, to the gold on his finger, and the love in his heart.  Then, you might consider the man more than the badge.

What I know now about this man, and so many men and women like him is that badge does not represent a job, it represents a life.  The badge may come off his chest at the end of his shift, however, he is still an officer, for there is no off switch.

What I know now is that an eight hour shift will become a ten hour shift because of a drunk driver crossing my husband’s path at seven hours and fifty three minutes into his eight hour shift. What I know now is that although it is against the law to drive drunk and endanger others, my husband must honor the rights of that drunk as it is my husband who is being filmed by his own dash cam and who will be called into court later and it is my husband who will have to defend his actions in arresting a citizen who was endangering the lives of others. What I know now is a drunk comes with two hours of paperwork which must be done before my husband can come home to me. What I know now is that twelve hours later when he finally makes it home his main concern will be showering the drunk off of him before he collapses out of exhaustion. What I now know is unlike what most who drink and drive think, the last thing my husband wanted was to cross paths with a drunk less than ten minutes before he could have come home to a hot meal, the game and his family. 

What I know now is that dead bodies have a stench which an officer can smell in his dreams. What I know now is charred bodies have their own distinctive smell as well.  What I know now is that in the winter time blood rises up as steam when it spills from a body onto the frozen street.  What I know now is that flesh and brain matter and body parts can get stuck in the tread of an officer’s boots.  What I know now is that a unit, in a driveway, with all four doors open, is not a sign of an irresponsible officer leaving his unit wide open, by the sure sign of an officer airing out a unit which he can’t get the smell of feces or vomit out of, despite his attempts to clean it. 

What I know now is how much thirty three pounds weighs, as I lift his duty belt and his vest off the bed, after he has removed it from his waist after carrying it for twelve hours, after leaning on it, trying to sit in it, having to run in it, having to wrestle in it. 

What I know now is that everyone has had two drinks, no one owns their own pants, everyone is driving their cousin’s car and no one knows anyone else’s real name.

What I know now is that although duty calls them to run towards danger, their human instinct tells them to run away, yet they make the conscious decision to run forward anyway.  What I know now is they are fully aware that each and every time they run towards danger, that they may never return to their family again.

What I know now is that they are compelled to help those in need, but by offering that help there comes a price.  What I know now is that a child who is found duct taped in a closet will return in an officer’s dreams for years.  What I know now is that a teenager whose twisted body, entwined with the metal of a wreckage will make them think of their own teenager, and that sight will make them sick at their stomach, but they will control their human instinct in order to perform their duty. 

What I know now is that most elderly people die on the toilet and are not found for days until an officer is called out on a welfare check.  What I know now is that hoarders not only bury themselves in their own human waste, but they save dead animals as well.

What I know now is that taking a child from his own parents, even when those parents have beaten and bruised that child is extremely painful, and an officer will still be viewed as the bad man who took a child from the only world they have ever known.  What I know now is how horrible an officer feels when he must leave that child in the care of the state, which has no room for that child either.

What I know now is that although citizens have every right to taunt my husband by filming him and egging him on and calling him a PIG and wishing him dead, regardless of ever meeting him or knowing him, or seeing the picture of him rocking his baby, there is no point in telling them otherwise.  They live in America, and they have rights.  The right to show compassion or understand what I know, is not on their agenda.

What I know now is that an officer can survive four tours of duty in Iraq, be hailed a hero, only to return to America, put on a badge, and instantly become the enemy.  What I know now is that an officer will be disrespected by those very men and women he served with overseas.  They will say “at least you get to come home”….. I will say “I hope to God he lives through what America has lined up for him”.  What I know now is they will fly a flag for him when he is deployed, but they will say they pay his salary when he wears a badge at home.

What I know now is how hard it is to see my husband stand in honor of one who is lost. What I know now is what “Blue Family” means when it comes to an officer’s funeral. What I know now is exactly what the term “gut wrenching yet beautiful” means.

What I know now is why so many officers eat their own guns.

What I know now is what a bad day looks like on the face and body of my husband. What I know now is the toll the badge has taken on his life.  I know how to wake him from the monsters which fill his sleep.  I know why he constantly pays attention to his surroundings. I know why he has taught me to shoot a gun. I know why he doesn’t let our kids ride the school bus.  I know why he never drives home the same way twice.  I know why he stands up to eat when he makes it home for lunch.  I know why some nights he is silent.  I know why he takes his boots off before he brings his last call through the door to our home.  I know why he doesn’t cry anymore.  I know why his smiles are distracted.  I know why he stares at me sometimes.  I know why he stands alone in the hall, looking into our children’s rooms at night.

What I know now is how to fix a leaky sink, change my own oil, haul three kids to the doctor alone, explain to family why we can’t make it again.  What I know now is that eight hours equal twelve, lunch time is after dark, breakfast is at lunch time and Monday is usually on Wednesday.  I know now how to reheat meals up to three times without ruining them.  I know how to load three kids in a car and get dinner to the back of the parking lot beside the rail road tracks in ten minutes flat.  I know how to get blood out of anything.  I know how to wrap broken fingers and disinfect bloody knuckles. I know when an eye is swollen enough to have it looked at.  I know it’s a good thing when my husband’s voice is on the other end of the phone saying he’s hurt, because he can still speak and make a call.  I know the panic will overcome me when I see a unit rolling up to my house when my husband isn’t home, but I know I am prepared for it.

What I know now that I didn’t know then is nothing is what I expected it to be.  I expected this life to be hard on me, what I never anticipated is how hard it is on him.  What I know now is a whole other level of respect for the duty that badge holds.  What I know now is our truth….. that this man is the same man who stole my heart.  Over 16 years behind the badge and his character hasn’t wavered.  However, the character of America has. What I know now is that I still love him for who he is, but I love him so much more to make up for all who hate him.  And yes,  I would do it all again because this is who we are.  My husband is a law enforcement officer, and I would gladly sign up to be his wife all over again.

Melissa Littles
Founder, The Police Wife Life ©TPWL

It was just a simple call, a quick reassurance, a courtesy really.  One of those calls to nonchalantly inform you of the circumstances before you happen to hear it from another source.  So why then; why and how could a call of such simplicity invoke such emotion? Officer involved shootings happen daily across the country, it’s not as if the news of such should cause a dramatic amount of emotion… especially since there were no injured officers and the suspect was taken into custody….via stretcher.  Just another day in the life of law enforcement; just another day an officer's wife gets the good call, the call you hope for, the call which affirms your LEO is safe, uninjured, and coming home.  And yet, for whatever reason, that call would leave her mind reeling, it would leave her studying his body language, it would leave her dismissing thoughts which were not allowed. It would leave her with proof that once again, when you think you have it under control, it is only truly under control moment by moment.

She sat in her chair, the chair she worked in, the chair with a view of the laundry room door to the garage and a second view to the pretty clock which was totally unnecessary due to her phone and computer, but somehow softened the reality of her time away from him with its pretty curves and scrolled ironwork.  She struggled to focus; she struggled to shake the feelings of being overly dramatic from her mind. She found herself asking why? Why was she reacting like this? Why was she so discombobulated over something which was so much the norm for her life?  And she realized it was really a matter of timing. It never failed, it seemed at least. The moment she allowed herself to drop some of the protective coating which encased her always seemed to be the moment which proved to her that vulnerability was not an emotional state she could afford herself. 

The memories of that summer night came rushing back to her. Thoughts of him, outnumbered, darkness preventing his vision of the predator who were armed and intoxicated, a group with no clear thought, nor regard, nor respect…..nothing to lose, yet he came home. 

The memories of that familiar nonchalant call came rushing back to her, stifling heat of a raging summer, the vision of him wrestling a robbery suspect onto the scorching pavement, his gun drawn, suspect resisting and his words to her afterward…..”Sesame Chicken or Sweet and Sour Pork?”

The thoughts she had memorized came back to her……timing, she thought.  Just earlier that very day she was awakened by his warm body against hers, completely wrapping her within his much larger frame, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety only he could provide her.  The memories of that very morning came back to her, listening to his words as she studied him, memorizing the scar on his forehead, thankful once again the cause didn’t claim him, studying the scars she knew so well which marked his body with memories which ended in calls of reassurance…..the good calls….the calls which brought him home to her.  Just hours later, on a typical day she would receive yet another good call, a call of reassurance, a call which would indicate he would come home to her…..so why? Why could she not shake the one thing she refused to allow in their life?  Why, could she not keep herself from thinking analytical thoughts and implicating his life with statistics?

She never allowed him to factor into her numbers. He was off limits to her. She spent her life studying the loss, researching the cause, gaining knowledge of the facts.  She could see the map of a country with a thin blue line running through it in her mind at all times, she could visualize holes in the line and those stepping in closer to fill the gaps. She could close her eyes at any moment and state by state see the numbers of injuries, deaths, close calls…..and good calls. She lived it, breathed it, it stripped her of the good dreams many months ago……it claimed her ability to sleep completely. In a way, it consumed her, and yet she knew, if she were to maintain her commitment to it, it must consume her.  She was crazy in the eyes of most, she was ignorant and misinformed and guilty of transferring her love of one to the commitment to the others. She would surely wake up one day and realize the fool she was.  And for her passion she realized was so ridiculed by most, she excluded him.  It was her way of protecting him from the statistics. She removed him purposely from all thoughts which may concern her about his safety. She allowed the reputation of his department to interrupt her knowledge of the truth she had known all along…..that it wasn’t if something would eventually happen, but when….and to which one of them. Statistically speaking, she knew they were due. Long overdue, actually; but that thought, was not allowed.

She sat in her chair, headphones in place to drown the thoughts which would not elude her tonight. She stared into her glass of wine not willing to allow its contents to soothe her, for as much as she wanted to dismiss the thoughts which were spinning in her head like a whirlwind, she knew she must face them, accept them; swallow them for the truth they held.  She knew, she must entertain the thought of his mortality in order to be able to confront the fear today had invoked, and in turn, to allow it to return to its rightful place in the back of her mind.

She had lived her life with him constantly rebuking the monster within her which told her nothing good ever lasts for her. She had continually fought her fear of losing the happiness which had eluded her for years until she allowed herself to accept the love he freely offered her.  She forced herself to quash the resentment she felt for him for telling her, almost proudly, that if this life were to claim him early, it was in duty he wished to be claimed. She was almost sickened at the thought of him proudly leaving her, although she knew it was purely selfishness which allowed her to think that way. She knew what he meant, she just refused to accept it. To accept it was to entertain it. To entertain it, to her, was to acknowledge the possibility of it.  To entertain the possibility of it, was to picture herself the widow of a hero.

So perhaps today it all boiled down to one thing. In the early morning hours she let her guard down, she allowed herself that closeness she couldn’t bear to lose. She allowed him to hear her soften. She allowed those emotions which always ended in pain for her. She trusted herself to him knowing the consequences, knowing the risks.  She allowed herself to accept that he was worth every ounce of what she had to give, regardless of what it may eventually cost her. And she allowed her heart the opportunity to be broken out of the sake of fully loving him. 

Hours later……..she sat in her chair, the chair with the view of the garage door and the useless clock, and she waited, she waited for the sound of Velcro and keepers and she waited for that warm body pressed up against her reassuring her that this life, this love, this constant unknown, was worth the risk of a broken heart.  She waited as she always did, but perhaps today, a little more aware, a little more alive, a little more in tune with her appreciation for each moment of the unknown.

I’m one of those people, the “brewers”.  I can sustain myself by suppressing emotionally driven reactions for a good, long while.  Age and life experience gives us the gift of patience, tolerance, the ability to think it but not say it….however, suppression is just a masking of your real emotions - Duct taping of your filter, if you will.  Duct tape will fix almost anything, although it has no power to truly heal or repair a thing.  

I know doing what I do gives me an insight that is probably not the best thing for a person like me to have.  It gives me a look into the lives of others, into their homes, into their departments, into their viewpoints which are conveyed to me through their comments, messages and posts.  I still question God (yes, I said question God, that would be that human nature thing) as to whether or not I truly heard this whole mission as He had offered it to me, or if in reality I was just really sick of working in law and mentally formed His own calling for me in order to have a reason to walk away from the concrete corporate jungle. For, I am a cynic. I have learned to look for the better side of life, despite the overwhelming urge to Judo LEOW Ninja throat punch life to death at times. I have grown into my determination to be a positive person. I have dedicated myself to being a better wife, mother, friend, than I have in the past along former legs of this journey of life.  However, underneath all that conscious effort, there I am…the cynical me that years of loss, heartache, dysfunctional family, dysfunctional choice of professionally hand holding rich, divorcing whiners who have no clear vision of simple blessings has helped me become. 

You can learn how to live a better life, you choose your own behavior, you and your thoughts and actions dictate how you will face each and every day, but all of those are choices, it does not change the core of who you are.  There are no true saints or sinners in humanity – there are perfect souls, innocents which were brought into this world who through their own actions and life experiences live their lives as saints or as sinners.  It is always a choice. A choice we as the occupiers of our bodies make each and every day.   I’ve chosen to be a cynical person who suppresses that emotion for the sake of the positive, not a proud accomplishment, yet a constant reminder of the work of self I still have in front of me.  Although cynical, with need of mental renovation, I still choose to live a positive life. I’ve learned that allowing my cynicism to take the front row of my theater has never resulted in a positive outcome.  Although banished to my balcony, cynicism still has a seat. I hope to one day be able to say cynicism’s admission has been denied.  

I receive countless messages each and every day, too many to keep up with, too many for those who help me to keep up with, and the recurring theme for so many who write me is related to their relationship with their LEO, their LEO’s behavior, their LEO’s attitude, the failing state of their relationship.  What I hear so often is “I don’t know why we always fight, we fight about everything. Everything becomes a battle. He’s always in such a bad mood.  Everything is negative.  I feel so unappreciated.  I feel he doesn’t care about us at home.  I’m sick of his attitude.  I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of feeling like a single mother.  I can’t deal with his mood swings.  He cheated.  I cheated. He’s an ass.  He says I’m a bitch.  His department treats them horribly and he brings it home to us. His co-workers mean more to him than his family, etc., etc.)  I could go on for days, but it all boils down to the same basic thing – discord on the home front.  And as simple as it sounds, for me it seems there is one thing which escapes so many relationships today – endearment.

I love looking at those interviews of the elderly couple.  Those who have been married fifty plus years, being asked by the younger generation how they make it work, how they make the love last.  And that’s just it…. the answer is they continued to love each other.  We’ve forgotten what it means to love one another, to truly love one another and what exactly the definition of love is. 

My favorite bible verse is about love.  1 Corinthians 13:4-7.  “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”  That is the answer of the elderly couple, still so in love after all those years.

I’ve been told not all are as “lucky to live such a charmed life” as I.  Not all have an understanding Officer Littles at home.  I’ve been told time and time again I have no idea what it’s like to live with an angry, hostile LEO who is under such stress on duty from being in a crime ridden community with a horrible agency only to come home to a financial nightmare and a blended family not blending well and crazy ex’s and sick babies and baggage from past relationships tearing the family apart….   Those who know me know that is all far from the truth.  Those who know Bervis and I know we too, just like you, make a decision each and every day to live a positive life, despite the negatives hurled at us, or we choose not to.  We have made a choice to be in this crazy life together, we have made a choice to respect each other, to love each other, to honor that we both made a conscious decision to spend the rest of our lives together and to always remember to cherish each other.  There is no “I give what I get”.  There is no “what’s in it for me?” There is no “I’ll show you”.  We have made a choice to live as one.  We are individuals dedicated to being a united front on our journey of life….and we both took the hard road to determining that was the best path for us to take.

I married BL after my ex (was a Marine and Cop) had been sentenced to prison time after pleading guilty to criminal abuse and battery and stalking charges against me.  BL had come out of a divorce and now found himself a single cop with two daughters to support and plenty of baggage with his ex, who he did his best to love and hang in there with and make it work, to no avail.  His kids missed their family being together, they were struggling. It was no place to introduce the new wife on a happy note, especially a new wife with PTSD and fear from abuse and a lingering taste of blood in her mouth by a cop gone bad, now giving it a go with a good cop, all the while struggling with her own little girl growing up lost. Trying to save her, rehab, therapy, the stress of trying to save your child while maintaining your marriage and not leaving either any less of a priority.  Watching my oldest, my baby girl, spiral out of control as my savings drained in an effort to force her to accept the help she needed, then losing her completely while watching your other children flourish. The battle against guilt in the pride for those still at home while living with never ending grief, and worry as you try and sleep each night not knowing if your child is dead or alive. Having to speak the words “she been missing for over a year” as the answer to “Where’s Lo, what’s she up to nowadays?”  Getting the call in the middle of the night your prayed for in a good way and dreaded in a bad way, only to be left without her once again wondering, while still living in your happy family home with those who remain with a smile on your face and a gaping hole in your heart….. just as all the chaos with your baby boy begins to make sense finally.  Autism, sensory processing disorder, speech therapy, occupational therapy….. bankruptcy,  23 years of 401-K savings used to live on gone in less than two years,  losing my dad last year after not speaking to him in over a decade as the color of the skin of my family wasn’t acceptable to him, the dysfunction of my entire family erupting over me as I walked my black husband into the arms of my accepting mother in front of an entire family of bigoted ignorance at a funeral home so I could make my peace.  BL’s mother losing her job, having severe diabetes and no place to live or insurance to cover her needs well before the age of retirement, a house with no room and a husband who is the responsible son taking on yet more responsibility for his family and now his mother.  Yes, a charmed life we live indeed.

My husband has lived the LEO life for over 15 years.  It’s not true that it takes a high crime rate to qualify you for the stresses of LEO life.  He still has monsters in the night from the babies he couldn’t save, the dead bodies that were alive when he got to them but not when he left them, that famous lumpy head and Nike Swoosh scar on his forehead is a daily reminder of the road he’s traveled and the traction lost underneath his wheels, as are the steroid shots in his back to keep him walking a reminder, or being on scene with the parents of the teenagers who blew their heads off who he had mentored for years only to be left feeling as he failed them in the end.  The memories of the times he lost his cool while still learning how to handle himself in the early days leaving him benched for 30 without pay, several times.  The baby in the lake, the exposure to the meth labs, decontamination. The bloated dead bodies found on the toilets. The lady in the hoarder house and the dead things inside.  The funerals of his brothers. The many, many funerals of his brothers.  

I guess you could say I feel I have earned the right to be cynical.  I guess I understand why I take offense when others tell me I can’t understand.  I guess my marriage should be falling apart, I guess I should take it all out on BL, I guess he should take it all out on me.  I guess we should be under no obligation to own our own personal struggles and take the personal responsibility upon ourselves to handle the stresses with dignity.  I guess I could reduce myself and allow the emotions I feel to overtake my filter and let BL be my whipping post when my inner bitch feels the need for release.  I suppose he could find an escape with a hot cop at work in an effort to avoid his mother living at home or his autistic son or his college age kids draining his already drained wallet that every extra security gig can’t cover.  I guess we could both just act and behave in a manner which might personally make us feel better at any given moment. I suppose I could blame him for working so much to provide for his grown kids or to care for his mother leaving me with the stresses of my own for extended periods of time.  I suppose the cold shoulder or nights on the couch or hanging out with those other than those we are supposed to come home to could be the answer.  I suppose being volatile rather than responsive would be acceptable…. But it’s just not.

I married that man for a reason.  He is the kind of man who sacrifices time with family for the sake of honoring his duty.  He is ethical in that way.  He is the kind of man who would never let his kids go without the college education of their dreams.  He is the kind of man who will never leave his mother worried about a roof over her head.  He is the kind of man who would take on a scarred, damaged woman and show her the kind of love that exists in this world.  He is the kind of man who has nothing to prove but chooses to prove the best of him each and every day.  He chooses to be that man, despite what life hurls at him.  Life has hurled much his way.  Is he perfect? Absolutely not, but he owns his moments when it all gets to be too much.  He directs that emotion not angrily at me, but lovingly into my arms, the one person he knows has his back, the one person he can go to when he is overwhelmed.  The one person he knows will be there to support him.  That is a choice. It is the character he chooses. I choose the same.  We both make a conscious decision through each and every hurdle to remind ourselves that the hurdle is our own to jump, along with our cheerleader standing beside us to help us down the track.   We have chosen to rely on each other as teammates, we choose each day to tackle it all together.  We choose to take the “me” out of “we” and we are dedicated to remembering and honoring who we are as individuals that makes up one half of that “we”.  He is a cop. He will never be here as much as I would like. He will never be available on demand.  He will always have struggles that I cannot understand.  He will always have stresses which are not related to my own.  He will always have a past with his ex.  He will always have memories that are not my own.  He will also always have what he chose in me.  He will always have that fire in his heart which caused him to seek me out in the first place, unless he grows into a different person.  He will always have that which he originally loved in me, because I will continue to choose to be that person who had all the baggage and fear and anger and cynicism but chooses to live in love and positivity despite it all.  I will always be that person he fell in love with because regardless of what life has hurled at me, God has continued to hurl more blessings at me than I can count, and I will choose to be mindful of that daily.  

Regardless of everything I’ve been through, the importance is in remembering what I’ve been brought through…. And what I’ve chosen to learn from it and how I’ve chosen to use all those experiences to remind me to try each day to be a better person than yesterday.  Personal responsibility; owning your own actions; living with character despite emotional pain.  They say you are what you eat….. I believe you are what you live. I choose to remember how blessed I am.  I choose to remember how amazing it is to have someone to share that with. I choose to remember the worth of my partner and I choose to respect the "we" that we have built together.  I choose to own my role in it and I choose to love my life. Food for thought.   ©TPWL

I look back at my own words over the last year and see the recurring theme; how to handle being a LEOW. How to handle constant change, how to be flexible, how to maintain your sanity in the face of your own fears; how to stay calm through adversity.  I talk about being patient, being kind, being forgiving. I’ve talked about learning to give before expecting to receive. I’ve talked about the rewards received when you eliminate selfishness from your mentality.  I’ve talked about having faith, being honest, owning your own faults, accepting your weaknesses and growing through them until they become strengths.  I’ve talked about being strong, being independent, being capable. I’ve talked about letting go and let God. I’ve talked about knowing your limits, knowing when to step back, take a break, allow your LEO to be your backup, your superhero.

I’ve found myself at that end of the spectrum, that place where you realize you are all about preaching and not practicing, all about supporting and not accepting; all about helping others to find their way while you stand still on a dead end road.  I’ve found myself being forced to acknowledge the vast difference between wants and capability; the difference between your dreams of change, your hopes and visions of a better future; your belief that somehow, someway the world can still be stirred enough to evolve……and the reality that all that you’ve dreamed of is as easy to reach as lassoing the moon.

I’ve realized that regrets are useless until they invoke enlightenment. I’ve realized that enlightenment without the next leap of fate is futile. I’ve come to terms with the fact that failure is a part of everyday reality, but it is the knowledge and strength you gain from failure which drives you to determined achievement.

I’ve learned that you can never change the past, but the future is always in your own hands.  I’ve learned that self-pity is nothing more than fear of accomplishment. I’ve learned that low expectations are a form of personal protection. I’ve learned that forgiveness is more about allowing yourself to move forward than allowing those who have hurt you to be free from guilt they most likely never possessed.  I’ve learned that goals and aspirations are attainable only as long as you ignore those who desire to relish in your demise.  I’ve learned you are only as worthy as the worth you see in yourself. I’ve learned ambition is tireless and complacency is deadly. 

I’ve learned that moments are to be treasured, memories are made of moments, true love is unconditional and time does not heal all wounds. I’ve learned that loving unconditionally is not always painless but is always prosperous, although not always realized in the manner you expected.  I’ve learned at times you must walk away from what you have always known in order to find the path which has been waiting for you all along. I’ve learned that faith is blind and requires you to trust your own instinct.  I’ve learned honesty is always the best policy as without it you are continually falsifying your own character.  I’ve learned character is defined not only by actions but by intent.  I’ve learned that owning your faults is the best path to conquering your own personal obstacles. I’ve learned acceptance of self is the first step to personal growth.  I’ve learned that facing your fears is a step towards peace. I’ve learned that peace only comes from resignation of the past and the release of fault, whether by others or yourself.  I’ve learned that contentment is priceless and gratitude is invaluable.

One thing I’ve left to learn is how to accept that which cannot be changed.  How to relinquish control of what you thought you knew as truth. How to resign yourself that time only moves forward and regardless of how forgiving and accepting and tolerable you are, it is still that which can never be changed that haunts us.   And it is then that you find yourself right back where you started, relearning all you have come to know again….until you make peace with yourself and are able to let go, forever learning, forever growing. We can always do better.

She sat in the floor of their closet staring at his uniforms, clad in the plastic dry cleaner bags, untouched.  He would wear a uniform out before putting together a new one.  It was almost bad luck to him. He settled into those uniforms, the wear and tear from his duty belt proof of his dedication to his work.  She would often encourage him to break in a new one and yet he resisted. As much as he desired to be sharp and crisp and perfectly pulled together, a new uniform was like unknown territory to him. It wasn’t broken in or comfortable and it left him off his mark, like a new pair of shoes being worn on the biggest race day of a runner’s career.  A slight smile washed across her face at the thought of all his particulars. She picked up the bristled brush from the shoe box he used to shine his boots each day before heading out to shift, running her fingers through it, soaking up the smell of shoe polish which lingered in the air. Her eyes wandered to the empty hook above her head which held his duty belt and the empty hanger which held his uniform shirt. Empty. That’s exactly how she felt as well.

Another sleepless night, like so many before, trying to make sense of it, trying to bring justice to it, she struggled just as she had for years. Not knowing what to do, how to feel, what to say, she tried to shut the thoughts and visions and memories from her mind.  Everything he had told her for years, now seemed to be unavoidably true. For all the times she tried to talk sense to him, for all the nights she tried to calm him, for all the days she tried to convince him he did all he could, she now felt the despair he felt. Hopelessness. Anguish. Failure.  She now truly believed she understood what she had tried so desperately to convince him wasn’t real for years.  It was real. It would forever be real.  There was no more escaping it.

The frozen air and blinding wind of a Chicago morning in January took his breath away. He pulled his stocking cap down over his ears as he reached for his gun and crept around the side of the house.  The call had come in as shots fired.  Multiple neighbors reporting the same but no one actually seeing anything out of the ordinary.  He lingered a bit as he waited for backup but he knew he had to go in without waiting. No cars in the drive, no lights on in the house, yet something screamed at him that it wasn’t right. It was very, very wrong and he felt it. As he approached the door, his flashlight shining in the window, he saw nothing. No signs of foul play, no signs of life at all….and that’s what made his hair stand on end. His gut told him someone was in there, but who? Alive? Dead? Lying in wait? Was this one of those fake 911 calls to entice an officer into an ambush? He didn’t know what to think about that feeling in his gut. Just then another gust of blustery wind rushed up against his back and onto the porch and his eyes moved as the front door inched open with the burst of wind.  An invitation to the madness. Now at an ever heightened sense of alert he questioned going in alone. He knew backup was only minutes, possibly seconds away, but the open door proved too powerful as it lured him inside. No one could have ever anticipated what he would find.  For the first time in fifteen years of exposure to death and destruction and mayhem he found himself rushing to the closest toilet as he vomited up the vision which was just permanently and forever seared in his mind.

They hadn’t been as close lately. For whatever reason, call it life or stress or hectic schedules. Honestly he knew about the marriage problems. Their wives talked and frankly he was annoyed at the stress it placed on his own wife. They used to be inseparable. They were like brothers, not just in blue, they were like blood brothers. Best friends for years, they knew everything about each other. No secrets, no lies, nothing to hide…or so he believed.  They were Godfathers to each others children. They went on family vacations together. They were partners for nine years, but lately there was a distance. Maybe it was just him being annoyed, maybe it was the chaos of everyday life, but he just didn’t pay much attention to the change in his partner.  Truth be told, he dismissed him. He had even joked with his wife that it was like a nine year itch, perhaps it was time for a new model.

His partner had called in sick. He had called to check on him, no answer. Par for the course lately he thought.  But not now. Everything had changed in a heartbeat and nothing could make any of this real. Nothing could make any sense of it. There had to be more. There had to be a reason.  As he was pulled from the bathroom by his colleagues who had arrived on scene it began to hit him. It was real. It was true. This was no dream.  His best friend and partner had eaten his service weapon, his head half blown off inside the home of his mistress who lay dead in a pool of blood on the floor. His one eye left, open as if to say "where were you?"  He didn’t know whether to feel disgusted or angry or overwhelmed with sadness.  His wife…..dear God, his wife and babies. How was he going to tell her?  As the reality of what was to come washed over him, thinking of the pain his partner’s wife would endure, he felt more lost than he had ever felt before.

As the years went by he could never shake it. He felt an overwhelming sense of failure. How could he not know? How could he be so out of touch? He felt guilt for being so absorbed with his own family, he felt guilt for dismissing his partner’s conversations about the issues in his marriage. Every Birthday and holiday and anniversary date would leave him physically ill for his partner’s wife and children. He felt guilt for every date he should be celebrating in his own life.  He felt anger, he felt lost, he had so many unanswered questions.  It took a toll on his marriage. For as much as he loved her, he didn’t feel he deserved happiness.  For as much as she tried to comfort him, he pushed her away.  For as much as his babies loved him, he couldn’t get past the guilt for those left without their daddy.  He turned to the bottle first, but it was too risky. He had to feed his kids.  He ended up doctor shopping for prescriptions to numb the pain legally.  His dedication to his duty started to wane as did the duty to his family.  He ended up on administrative leave for a bit, then scraped his way back to duty.  He ended up on the couches of friends, or women for weeks at a time, then managed to inch his way back into her life. Each time she would confront him he would rage with defensiveness in an attempt to avoid his truth.  She begged him to seek help. He refused. His anger ever growing, her patience ever fading, he returned home one day to changed locks and a court order taped to the door of the home they built together.  

Too much.  It was all too much to bear. He had lost the only thing he had left. No one to comfort him. No one to wake him when the nightmares wouldn’t stop. No one to try endlessly to convince him it wasn’t his fault. He had pushed her too far. He had expected too much. He had once again, failed the one who meant so much to him. There was no escaping, in his own eyes he was nothing but a failure.

She sat in the floor of their closet, looking up at the empty hook and hanger, knowing she would never see the uniform he wore when he took his life. She wept as she wondered how they would go on without him. For as much as she could no longer tolerate his behavior, for as much as she couldn't tolerate his indiscretions, she never stopped loving him, he was the love of her life. She just needed him to get help. If she had known… if she had ever thought for one minute….

Her head in her hands as she wept for him, for the times they shared, for the times she dismissed him, for the moments she ignored him, for her own mistakes he had forgiven, for the memories they made, for the children he left behind. Her heart broken knowing the sacrifices he had made all those years for so many in need. All those he helped, all those who had hated him, all those who had mocked him, all those who had turned their back on him simply because of his badge…. And now, because he could take no more he wouldn’t even be honored for the good he did. He would only be remembered for that one moment he couldn’t take the pain any longer.  And there she was, in the floor of their closet, left to feel she had failed him, left to carry the pain, left to carry the weight, left to find a way, somehow, to ensure her children knew he was a hero.  She vowed that day to teach her children there was always a light after darkness. There was always a better tomorrow. There was always a reason to keep moving forward. And she prayed each night she was strong enough to believe her own words.  ©TPWL

If you or someone you know is suffering, contact Safe Call Now or 1st Responder Treatment. There are resources. There is help.

She stood in the shower, the warmth of water too hot for her taste falling over her body, as the shock of cool tile hit her back as she collapsed down the shower wall.  She never knew how he could stand such scalding water; he claimed it soothed his sore muscles, while washing away the visions which clung in his memory, even as their remnants were washed down the drain.  Her world had abruptly become unreal, unfathomable.  As she sat in the floor of their shower, in the little house they had worked so hard to make their own, she lifted her head into the stream of hot water, the only confusion which allowed her warm salty tears to collide with the cleansing stream of water, as she prayed for the ache in her heart to be washed away as easily as the residue of this day.  She knew however, nothing would ever wash this pain away. She also knew she could never get back that one moment that would have changed what was now the rest of her life, forever.

The morning started much like most for them.  He, coming off a twelve hour shift, exhausted, dirty, sore, a full moon to boot… he had been counting the hours until 6:00am, although their paths were crossing as he returned home, as least he had a few minutes with her as she got ready for work, he prayed that after the night he had, she would be in a good mood. He needed her, he needed her understanding, her warmth, her touch, if even for a moment.  She had been distant since the shift change to nights, he wished she knew how hard it was for him as well.  Give it a few more weeks, he was sure it was just the adjustment that was causing her coldness.  He had already decided not to mention his close call, no need to cause more discord over the change in shift, and honestly, he felt his lack of sleep and adjustment was more to blame than the suspect.  If he could just get in the door without an argument and get some rest, he knew he would be a whole new man…. again.  Just knowing he was off the next two days was more relief than anything.  His body was tired. His mind was spent.

She was in no mood nor did she have time to entertain him.  She mustered a smile and a hug although she slightly pulled away as he slid his hands up the sides of her face into the back of her hair as he tried to kiss her. “Okay…. Love you! But I JUST did my hair and makeup and no offense, but….you stink.  Take a shower and get some sleep babe, call me at work when you wake up”.    He noticed the clock and although he felt bad for saying anything he couldn’t help himself. He had felt her distancing herself since he was informed of his shift change. He missed her and he couldn’t escape the clear fact that she was not happy to say the least about the change in circumstance.  “Are you leaving early for a reason? I was hoping to have a few minutes to spend with you.”  He saw the change in her face as soon as he said it.  “I‘m leaving early because I have a job. I sleep half awake and alone, in case you forgot, so I’m not exactly on top of my game at work, not that it matters to you.  I’m not leaving early, I’m leaving now so I can try and get caught up since I’m a walking zombie thanks to your new shift, but thanks for your concern!”  She slammed the door to the laundry room on her way out to the garage as he sunk into the chair as he watched her go. 

The water was almost painfully hot as he rested his forehead on the cool tile as the scalding water washed over his tired body. His mind couldn’t erase her anger. He wished she knew how much he missed her, how he needed her, how he appreciated her taking on this life.  He was tired of fighting, tired of worrying about how long he slept, not wanting to miss his call to her on her lunch hour. He couldn’t shake the night before, he knew he was at fault. He should have been more aware of his surroundings, should have had his mind in the right place, thank God it turned out alright, thank God back-up was close enough.  It reminded him he needed to spend some time at the range….better worry about that later; it sure wouldn’t go over well at home now.

His bed was calling, his body was finally relaxing, the last of the hot water beginning to run cold as he heard the dreaded sound…. a callout. Well, of course.   Still half wet he grabbed his dirty uniform off the floor and hurried as quickly as he could out the door.  After several calls about the situation at hand, a domestic gone bad, he tried to call her as he ran hot….. no answer.  He left her a voice mail as he headed to location.

Her boss seemed at a loss for words, appearing at her desk.  It all seemed like the world ground from her stressed filled, fast paced mill into slow motion, each look and word emphasized, yet somehow inside the most chaotic filled moment of her life. As soon as she saw her boss round the corner to her desk with that look she had, she also saw the her worst nightmare converge upon her as the vision of grey shirts and bronze badges and side arms came into view.  Her life flashed before her as she literally saw the line from his “End of Watch” packet in front of her eyes…”Who is your preference to notify you in the event of a line of duty death”….as they both stood in front of her, their eyes red, their tears welled up but being held in reserve for her benefit.  The only memory she had of that moment was clearing her desk with one arm and falling into the arms of her husband’s brothers in blue.

It had been the longest 24 hours of her life.  The initial realization of it all, the ride to the hospital, her begging and pleading with God to change things…. The denial, the refusal of acceptance… and how dare they, how dare they tell me he’s an organ donor?!  Now?!  He’s NOT GONE!!!  As she sat weeping in her shower floor she felt a little ridiculous, she knew he was an organ donor, as was she… it just seemed so wrong at the time.  She wasn’t ready to acknowledge he was gone, it was all too soon.  She wasn’t prepared for this, it wasn’t fair. There were so many things she needed to change. So many things she needed to say.  Oh please dear God, there are so many things I need to say to him…. please.   How can they come in here and talk about cutting him up?  Although it was just hours ago, she felt ridiculous now…this is not how she handled herself.  As the water ran cold she forced herself out of their shower.

My God, the messages, the voice mails, the texts…. she had no intention of listening to any of it. His parents would be there soon enough and no doubt the battle of how to lay him to rest would begin.  She had no doubt that after just two years of marriage, they would have their ideal burial planned for their son.  Never before had she felt so insignificant as she did at this moment, standing in their bathroom, the one they fought over so much.  Tile; honestly….we fought over tile, she thought.  She felt sick to her stomach as the memories of their fights over tile and paint color returned to her.  Oh my God, why did we fight? Why did we tear each other apart?   Oh how I would give him a square sink and black cabinets now.  She scrolled through her phone at the countless messages as his number caught her eye.

“Baby, I got called out, hostage deal. Sounds like a domestic gone bad.  Please don’t let that ever be us. I love you so much, God I hope you know that. I’m sorry about the schedule…sorry about everything lately…  I just hope you know how much I miss us…. I do, I miss us.  I miss you.  I’ll call you when I can, sorry I got called out.  Hey, at least I’m off the next two days.  Maybe we should do something about that, huh?  Mmkay, love you…bye”…….  

   And she was left with that. Forever. She left mad. She left him frustrated. Yes, he had been moody too. He had been short tempered with the change…. But she knew the truth… she let it all get to her. She was mad about it all, she felt neglected, she was lonely, she was tired of sleeping alone.  She let him know it. She felt justified. She was his wife and she was left alone.  And now…… she was alone, forever. She left him, letting him know she was angry, she left him, letting him know she was disappointed.  She knew he loved her….she knew he left knowing she loved him… it didn’t seem to matter at the moment.  She didn’t have the chance to fix it…. she couldn’t change it.  This was it….. this was her last memory.  She knew he would know it was just words…. She knew it was just words….

So why does this seem like forever?   This is her forever.  ©TPWL

Monsters in the night; they continued to make their presence known to her. Despite his efforts to conceal them, despite his attempts to bury them, there they were. 

It was as usual; him arriving home, late as always. She used to ask if it was a drunk driver or if that accident on the news was what kept him, she no longer had to.  Their years together in this life of law enforcement let her know, just by the gait of his walk, the movement of his body, she knew.  He would arrive home, sit in the chair he still scolded her for paying too much for but longed to sink into after a shift gone bad, his head rested in his hands, rubbing that bald head as he looked at his boots, almost wishing they would remove themselves. 

They had their own language.  He spoke in full sentences just by catching her eye.  She responded with three simple words which said all that needed to be said in that moment… “I love you”.  It said everything he needed to hear and he knew it meant so much more.  They said enough, with his eyes, with her simple words, to communicate volumes.  It was what he needed and it was what she had learned to give, together with what she needed to reserve for the moment.  There were times, here and there, that she would notice he had already removed his boots before entering the house… she knew exactly why and took that as her cue to pay extra attention to his mood.  She had learned the one thing he would not bring inside their haven was someone else's remains.  She would find herself watching him, as he lugged himself to the bathroom, the sound of Velcro a double edge sword as he removed his vest.  That sound, the ripping of the Velcro, held so much symbolism.  The ripping of Velcro after a shift was the sweetest relief, the proof of a safe return, a twelve hour long anticipated proof of life.  Velcro before a shift invoked immediate anxiety which was quickly put in its place.  A battle cry of sorts…. The ripping and replacing the Velcro - just so… perfectly so; armor, protection, an added chance of victory against an unstoppable enemy.

The mirror in their bathroom gave her a view from a distance.  As she lay in bed waiting on him to collapse she would watch him. On a good day he would balance his phone on top of the shower door, his playlist helping him decompress, she couldn’t help but smile as he did his best imitation of voice and dance as he let go of all he carried home on his shoulders that day.  On a bad day she would find herself holding back tears as she watched him rest his forehead on the shower wall, the steam rising as he tried to allow the scalding water to wash away the nightmares forming in his mind of a day he knew and she knew, he could never erase.   Today was one of those days.  The bad days.

She watched him, studied him…. It had been years of this, this crazy life of theirs.  She still looked at him with a love even she felt hard to comprehend at times.  Dear God, how she loved him, she felt guilty on the bad days, watching him in the shower, she knew he was struggling, yet still, watching him she longed for his body next to hers.  Intimacy was a second thought at the moment, knowing his state of mind, yet she still longed for his warm skin and strong arms wrapped around her, she allowed him his time….his time to decompress, his time to allow all which continued to spin around and replay in his mind to settle, always knowing settled by no means meant resolved.  She prepared as she watched him, for she knew what was to come.

It would start with mumbling, sometimes a twitch of a leg or an arm.  On a really bad night she would suffer an elbow to her ribs, or on rare occasion she would force him awake as he began to place her in a choke hold, his apologies so profuse as he held her, kissing her over and over as he swore he would never, ever hurt her.  Most times it was just the slide of her foot over to his side of the bed, just enough to stir him, just enough to interrupt the monsters which took over his sleep.  There were times he would wake himself, finding himself sitting straight up, sweating, not knowing what brought him there….he would sink back into peace as he encompassed her with his body.  She would never forget him calling her his “kryptonite”…the one thing he couldn’t overpower, his weakness. She was his refuge, his sanctuary, the one place he could let go of his duty to the public.  She was his haven.  She held those words as close to her heart as she held him.  She knew he needed that escape. She knew she was the one who could give him that…. She also knew she could take it away.   She made it her mission to never take it away.

Tonight was one of the bad nights; the nights when nothing could keep the monsters at bay.  She was never sure who was walking the halls of his memory.  The baby he couldn’t save, the pregnant mother he held as she lay dying in his arms on a cold highway, the teenager he had mentored for years who ended it all with a single shot gun blast to the head.  The gang bangers he found himself facing, outnumbered, waiting for backup, exposed in a battle which he prayed he survived.  Inside a cruiser, trying to end a pursuit before it ended an innocent’s life as he felt the wheels lose traction as he saw pavement coming into sight before he awoke days later wondering why he was in a hospital bed.  She never knew what triggered it, she never knew which monster was visiting, all she knew was his peace, if even momentary, was in her hands.   She gently grabbed his shoulder from behind, slid her hand across his chest….she felt him shake himself awake and look to her in confusion.  His chest, clammy with sweat as she held him and said those three words, plus two, which were the equivalent of his kryptonite…. “I love you…. now sleep”. ©TPWL  Written by Melissa Littles

I will be the first to admit, I am not a realist when it comes to time management, nor am I typically successful in terms of being in five places at the same time, or in creating the extra hours needed in a day to get it all done.  I fail miserably in telling others “no” when I know without a doubt I have far too much on my plate begin with.  Story of most of our lives. We stretch ourselves thin, we overextend ourselves, our jobs at work and home are never ending. Add kids and the schedule of law enforcement life and you can rest assured, feeling like a hot mess in some fashion will be a certainty for most of us.  And one thing which I have to own about myself, I am a control freak who lacks the ability to delegate that which I perceive to be my own responsibilities to those who are willing to help me in my times of stress.  Well, that sounds familiar… hmm?  

So, all that being considered,  when I got that phone call six weeks ago from K9 Lakota’s mom, Corey Fox, introducing me to Chris Carswell and his mom, Janet from 1Boy4Change.org, telling me I had the opportunity to get a service dog for our son, well of course it never dawned on me the extra hours in a day that would require of me.  I had absolutely no clue whatsoever the dedication and time and effort it takes to bond a boy with special needs to a dog with special skills.  And of course, it’s not the dog which requires the extra effort, it’s the boy, who has no intention initially of allowing a dog to do its job. 

But something has happened to me in the past six weeks.  I have been forced to say no to others. I have been forced to focus on what is truly important.  I have been forced to let go of things which turned out to not be the end of the world without my immediate attention. And I have had my eyes opened to so much that was being missed in the midst of chaos and stress of daily life. 

 

I don’t think it matter how it happens, or under what circumstance, as those life moments vary for all of us. However, the key is not missing it.  Listening and learning and stopping ourselves long enough to take in those moments in life that ironically are missed because of life.   I’ve had to change my priorities. I’ve had to slow down and give the time needed to my son and his dog.  I’ve had to say “no” to plenty of people, a lot lately.  I’ve had to walk away from my writing and put things on hold and I’ve had to just accept it for what it is, because it’s what my son needs right now.   In turn I’ve learned how much really can wait. And I’ve been present at the show of life I’ve been missing until recently.

You know…. Life happens.  And, it’s not always pretty.  So many times we say to ourselves “when I have time, when I get done with this, when I get a break, after I get caught up, etc….” and the reality is when we rely on those moments, they will never come.  We will always feel that tug to keep the chaotic ball of life rolling in the order it must so all doesn’t fall apart…that’s human nature.  However, the power is in our hands to prevent the chaos from dictating our lives.  I think we lose that truth under a pile of paperwork or at the bottom of a laundry basket at times.

You know, my dominant personality is at times a little irked about all these life lessons being reiterated to me by a service dog and my autistic son…. But I think that’s the biggest lesson learned of all.  We don’t always know best.  Always learning, always growing. We can always do better.  Food for thought. ~Mel  ©TPWL

For more on Izzy and Kozmo and their progress:   www.facebook.com/IzzyKozmo