Reflections

I Have a Confession to Make

I have a confession to make.
I hate the word closure
when connected with the loss of a loved one.
You know what I mean --
a spouse, a sibling, a friend dies.
Weeks later there are those who want to know
when the bereaved will find closure.
The dictionary defines closure as
'. . . to be imperious to . . . to choke off . . .
to constrict . . . to bolt . . . to bar . . . to end.'
For survivors, the word closure often connotes
that the bereaved are underachievers
who flunked a grief course.
Though the intention is meant to be sympathetic,
there is evoked a note of chastisement
for failing to end the mourning process.
In the eloquent words of Dr. Jimmy Holland
at New York's Sloan-Kettering Hospital:
'We create a sense of failure
as if the bereaved is not doing it fast enough.'
For grief work takes more time and effort
than most people ever anticipate.
And even after weeks, months, and years later,
grief may ebb, but never ends . . .
The Song of Songs has an insightful perspective on
the death of a beloved.
Instead of a word like closure ('to end'),
are the thoughts of never forgetting, always remembering.
The final day of Passover . . . is a Service of Yizkor ('Remembrance')
for those whose memories will never die.
In the synagogue is a 'wall of remembrance'
of past members who are recalled
with lights lit by their names.
There is no closure.

~ Unknown Author ~

The Final Inspection

The policeman stood and faced his God,
which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, policeman.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My church have you been true?"

The policeman squared his shoulders
and said, "No Lord. I guess I ain't.
Because those who carry badges,
can't always be a saint."

"I've had to work most Sundays,
and at times my talk was rough...
and sometimes I've been violent
because the streets are awful tough."

"But I never took a penny,
that wasn't mine to keep...
though I worked a lot of overtime
when the bills got just too steep."

"And I never passed a cry for help,
though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I wept unmanly tears."

"I know I don't deserve a place
among the people here.
They never wanted me around
except to calm their fear."

"If you've a place for me here, Lord,
it needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But, if you don't...I'll understand."

There was silence all around the throne,
where saints had often trod,
as the policeman waited quietly
for the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, policeman
You've borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on heaven's streets.
You've done your time in hell."

~ Author Unknown ~

Our Sheepdog, Our Cops

I've got something I need to say to you, and all of your magnificent 'sheepdog' comrades, and it comes from the heart...

Thirty-two years ago, I was a twenty year old buck sergeant in the 82d Airborne Division, spending over half my time on deployment, leaving behind a young wife and two little babies.
Twenty-two years ago I was a company commander in Panama, leaving a wife and three little boys back at home.

Twelve years ago I was wrapping up my military career, deployed every summer and countless weekends and weeks in between, with a wife and teenagers at home.
For the last eleven years I've been on the road, almost 300 days a year, training cops and military. I get home one or two nights a week: conjugal visit, clean underwear, and back on the road again.

For my entire adult life I've spent more time away from my loved ones than I ever spent with them.

And I knew, all they ever had to do, was to pick up the phone and dial three digits, and someone like you would show up to fight and, yes, even die for my loved ones.

And so I need to say something: Thank you.
Thank you, for walking the mean streets during one of the most violent times in history.
Thank you, for going toward the sound of the guns, when everyone else runs away.
Thank you, for being the front-line of defense in the War on Terror.
Thank you, for going in harm's way, every day, that others may live.
Thank you, for watching our back and covering our 'six' when we are overseas.
You should hear those words a lot more often: Thank you.
May God bless you and yours, as you protect and watch over others,

Dave Grossman

Lt Col, USA (ret)

The Suicide Funnel

A passing curiosity about suicide has crossed the minds of many officers. Recent thoughts of suicide have crossed the minds of some officers. A few officers have thought of how they would commit suicide. Fewer have thought about how to implement their plan. Even fewer have taken steps to implement the plan.

Some officers attempt suicide, with a way out. Some officers with no way out, are saved. A few officers succeed in ending their pain accidentally; others deliberately depart this end of the funnel and they give up. FEELING HOPELESS AND HELPLESS,THEY COMMIT SUICIDE.

~ Mary Myer ~

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