It's for my husband.
As you may know, my husband Shane is a police officer. More specifically he is a motorman. In the beginning of my blogging journey, I wrote an entry called "Disturbing Trend". There was a time in 2011 when it seemed that every time we turned the news on, a law enforcement officer was killed in FL. It was one of those months when the dangers of my husband's chosen profession was brought to the forefront of my attention.
I don't claim to speak for all in my position...
I am well aware of the risk Shane takes every morning when he rolls out of the garage. I try to talk to him once or twice during his workday. And each night, if he is even 5 minutes later than normal, my heart starts to pound a little harder than usual. But I don't dwell on it. Actually, I really don't feel "worried" for him when he's working. Maybe it's because he has been a police officer for several years. Maybe it's because I know how much control he can wield over that 800lb Harley. Maybe it's because I would go postal if I really thought about it.
Shane has been experiencing his own version of the "disturbing trend" recently. About a month ago, one of his good friends (motorman in a neighboring city) passed. Not in the line of duty, but shocking and sudden. Tom's was my first police funeral. It was powerful. I was overcome with emotion before I even stepped out of my car. My husband was part of the motorcade bringing Tom and his family from the funeral home to the church and then to the cemetery. So I went to the church solo and waited for Shane. I arrived early, as is my usual custom. Tom's death never made it in the news, and I was completely taken back by how many officers from all over the area came to show their love and support. If I had to guess, I would say maybe 150. Possibly more.
I cried. A lot.
Last Sunday night, I was getting ready to leave the house to go pick Shane up from work. The lease was up on his Harley and the Village hadn't gotten his new one in yet, so I had to chauffeur him. He called. I assumed it was to remind me to pick him up or tell me to bring something specific. It wasn't.
It was one of those calls. I could tell immediately. Shane was using his "police voice" - the one that doesn't have any hint of emotion, the one that is forceful without being mean, the one that means "don't interrupt me this is important." He said, "Bruce has been in an accident. Come here now. We have to go to the hospital."
Maybe it's the civilian in me, but I froze needing to hear that again. Needing time for my brain to process what was happening. Needing more details.
The details are known by many around the country now. My husband's dear friend Bruce St Laurent was killed while doing Presidential motorcade duty. It was a tragic accident. It was a dark day. It still makes me cry to think about it. And it destroys me to see Shane hurting so much.
My heart goes out to the families of both men. They were both wonderful people, great cops and incredible friends to Shane. I pray for peace for both families, the kind of peace that only God can give.
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| Bruce |
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| Shane |
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| Some of the motormen who came to Bruce's funeral |
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| The gang |
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| There is something so beautiful about the American Flag. It was nice to see this. |
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| The front of the procession on Friday - it went on for miles. |
The past month has really made me appreciate Shane. He laughs when I say it, but I just want to snuggle with him. I want to be next to him every second that he's home. I want him to know he is loved and needed. I don't want him to find another job. I think he is a great officer and the world needs good ones. But I want him to be safe. I want him to come home at the end of every shift. I don't ever want his Captain or Chief to call my cell phone or show up at my door. I want him to know how incredibly proud I am of him. I love my man on blue. I love him very much.
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