A Police Story

You might all enjoy. The writer is a former police officer and City
resident. Here it goes.

In 1974 when I first joined the police department, I
knew there would be special occasions my family would spend without me.
Knowing that fact didn't make the task any easier. The celebrations I
missed those first year's depressed me and sometimes made me feel
bitter.

Working on Christmas Eve was always the worst.

On Christmas Eve in 1977, I learned that blessing can come disguised as
misfortune, and honor is more than just a word.

I was riding one man patrol on the 4-12 shift.

The night was cold.

Everywhere I looked I saw reminders of the
holiday: families packing their cars with presents,beautifully decorated
trees in living room windows and roofs adorned with tiny sleighs. It all
added to my holiday funk.

The evening had been relatively quiet; there were calls for barking
dogs and a residential false burglar alarm. There was nothing to make
the night pass any quicker. I thought of my own family and sunk further
into depression.

Shortly after 2200 hours I got a radio call to the home of a elderly,terminally ill man.

I parked my radio car in front of a simple Sunset style home.

First aid kit in hand, I walked up the short path to the front door.

As I approached, a woman who seemed to be about 80 years old opened the door. He's in here she said, leading me to a back bedroom.

We passed through a living room that was furnished in a style I
had come to associate with older people. The sofa has a afghan
blanket draped over it's back and a dark, solid queen Anne chair say next to a unused fireplace. The mantle was cluttered with an eccentric
mix of several photos, some ceramic figurines and an antique clock. A
floor lamp provided soft lighting.

We entered a small bedroom where a frail looking man lay in bed with a
blanket pulled up to his chin. He wore a blank stare on his ashen, skeletal face. His breathing was shallow and labored.

He was barely alive.

The trappings of illness all around his bed. The nightstand was
littered with a large number of pill vials. An oxygen bottle
stood nearby. Its plastic hose, with face mask attached rested on the
blanket.

I asked the old woman why she called the police.

She simply shrugged and nodded sadly toward her husband, indicating it was
his request. I looked at him and he stared intently into my eyes. He seemed
relaxed now. I didn't understand the suddenly calm expression on his face.

I looked around the room again. A dresser stood along the wall to the
left of the bed. On it was the usual memorabilia: ornate perfume bottles,a white porcelain pin case, and a wooden jewelry case.

There were also several photos in simple frames.

One caught my eye and I walked closer to the dresser for a closer look. The picture showed a young man dressed in a police uniform. It was unmistakably a photo of the man in bed.

I knew then why I was there.

I looked at the old man and he motioned with his hand toward the side of the bed. I walked over and stood beside him. He slid a thin arm from under the covers and took my hand.

Soon,I felt his hand go limb, I looked at his face. There was no fear there. I saw only peace. He knew he was dying; he was aware his time was very near.

I know now that he was afraid of what was about to happen and he wanted the protection of a fellow cop on his journey. A caring God had
seen to it that his child would be delivered safely to him. The honor
of being his escort fell to me.

When I left at the end of my tour that night, the temperature had seemed
to have risen considerably, and all the holiday displays I a saw on the way
home made me smile.

I no longer feel sorry for myself for having to work on Christmas Eve.

I have chosen an honorable profession. I pray that when it's my turn
to leave this world there will be a cop there to hold my hand and remind me
that I have nothing to fear.

I wish all my brother's and sister's who have to work this Christmas
Eve all the Joy and warmth of the Season.

 

Wow.

 

Damn I got the chills... great post

 

Reminds me of all the times my father was out on christmas eve/ day working he's a homocide dectective and it makes me cringe everytime he gets called in during the holiday season. Somone lost somone weather they were kidnaped, raped or killed sometimes the relatives knew sometimes they didnt. Its sad, I always wonderd why my father wa a hard @$$ on my bro and I guess those were the reason he didnt want us to be one of his cases. People talk about how they hate the police all the time and yadda yadda. But in reality they are risking thier lives doing their jobs to pay for thier familes. I remember once case where my father worked 74hrs strait lookin for a kindnapped child. He never rested till they found him. So next time you think about giving an officer of the law a hard remember they have families too and they are human and deserve respect.

 

*Sniff Sniff* That was beautiful
Nice post

 

reminds me of my dear old grandpa. he was a retired gynocologist. on his death bed he asked all the nurses to come in and disrobe....and he wasn't trying to hold their hand, nudge, nudge, wink wink....

jk

if i was this guy's wife i'd be pretty ticked that my husband needed the hand of a stranger in a familiar uniform to escort him into the hereafter rather than the person who has been by his side the entire time.

thank god this guy wasn't a circus clown by trade or the wife woulda had a heck of a time finding an afterhours death bed bozo. also, can you imagine when the priest or pastor walks in to perform last rights and here's some red nosed clown holding the soon to be deceased's hand ushering him into the hereafter with a horn honk and a squirting flower?

heck, the wife shoulda called a male stripper in a police uniform. coulda killed two birds with one stone. the ingrate b*st*rd gets to think he's bonding with a fellow officer and when he checks out she gets a lap dance.

see, in my case it's gonna be anticlimactic. i'm in the clergy. after i retire and i'm on my death bed my wife won't need to call anyone special, they'll probably already be there. i'll be like "honey, nothing personal and thanks for the fifty plus years of being there with me, but i'm dying and i'm not taking any chances. make room for the guy in the robe holding the bible....oh, and find a cop and a clown while you're at it."

[/rambling]

 

^^^^ agreed ^^^^^

 

Dude... she's like 75+ y/o.. I doubt she'd want a half naked YMCA dude!

 

That's crazy. I don't have time to read it right now, but I glanced over a few lines and got the chills...I don't even know what the thing is about yet.

 

that reminds me of this time, back in 1995 when I first got the internet....











and I read this for the first time.

 

to much reading for me >>>>no thanks
hehehhe

 

Squirrel,

That was a good story. More of us in this world need to start "Paying it Forward".

 

Dang it! I can't let my coworkers see me cry. Must fight it.

 

Pay it Forward is a good movie. Helen Hunt is totally hot in it, too.

 

I'm glad I stumbled upon this post... It helps remind me of why I am seeking a career in law enforcement.

 

how so? in what way did stumbling upon this post remind you of the reason you are choosing a career path?...if you don't mind me asking. i am not being flippant, i am interested.

 

No problem, no assumptions of flippancy from me...

The post simply reaffirmed the feelings I already have. Maybe "remind me" was poor word choice... It solidified my perspective/focus which already exists. I am currently going through the recruit investigation aspect of the Boston Police hiring proccess. I found this post as something nice to have read. To use an automotive analogy, you can usually see what is in front of you, however it sometimes helps to hit the windshield washer every now and then to assist in clearly veiwing where you are intended on heading...

Hope this helps answers your question.

 

wow, Members of LE have a very strong bond bewteen one another........that was a great story, very moving

 

And an ex-murderer gang banger gets a peace prize nomination?