Memorial Day Reflection

In reflection of Memorial day, let’s take time to remember those who perished serving our community. In this spirit. I wanted to share my recent speech I gave at the FBI last week for their Wall of Honor ceremony to honor FBI agents and police officers who were lost in the line of duty this year. I was speaking to new family members who lost their loved ones in the line of duty and my perspective on grief.

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I am honored to be here and want to thank the FBI for this opportunity to share my story. Washington Irving once wrote, "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love."

?Indeed, we should embrace our tears as we grieve for those we have lost this year and in the past.

?Today may I stand before you as a friendly guide for those starting this difficult and sacred process of grief. Your journey will be unique. For me, I was visited by rage, loneliness, and confusion – to this day, I question how my life would have been different if my father was still with us.

?There were three phone calls I can remember that weekend in 1984. It still feels like yesterday.

?It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Grand Junction when the first call rang at our home. I picked up the phone the same time as my father did and I heard the Bureau simply ask him to fly to Larimer, Wyoming. My father agreed without question even though he had promised to attend my first high school swim meet that morning. I heard him come down the hall, knock on the door, and he wished me good luck and apologized for missing the swim meet. He was an FBI agent and duty reigned above all else in his life.

?Later that night, the second call came as my father just before he left Larimer. I shared my news about the swim meet which I happened to do very well. He was genuinely excited. This was the last time I heard his voice or had the chance to speak with him. I live with regret that I didn’t get an “I love you, Dad” infused into that brief conversation.

?The third call was early morning. This one, once again from the Bureau. My father’s plane had vanished somewhere over Meeker Colorado. As a family we rushed to Meeker only to be met with the news that he had perished. I remember the Sheriff coming into the conference room announcing that it was a fatality. I wasn’t really sure what that word meant at the time. Years later, I can put myself into that cold room in the courthouse and hear those words.

?As a survivor before you today, I have three lessons for you to consider as you start to navigate your own path forward.

First and foremost, this will not be a short journey. For me personally, it has been the cruelty of life’s major moments that I know my father would have cherished if he was still here. The birth of his grandchildren, weddings, graduations, holidays, birthdays,?travelling, and so many milestones mark his absence in my life. And not just the joys of life, but surviving divorce and the down times wondering what he would do or say in support. Let me say the journey is permanent, not transitional. Give yourself plenty of time. People in this country will leave you at the funeral and you will have to face the road alone. Take your time, grieve at your own pace and don’t feel guilty if you find yourself mourning years down the road.

Secondly, ask for help. The funeral ends and people leave and many simply expect the mourning process to be fulfilled and complete. But the reality is the journey is only the beginning. Find the resources to talk to about it. My biggest regret is not seeking sufficient professional support early and often. As if there was some stigma about getting help, I avoided it and allowed the rage to take over. It took three long and unnecessary years of being enraged to finally let it go, to recognize it wasn’t his fault. He made a choice to serve his country and with that duty, came an invoice the rest of us had to pay. It’s ok to ask for help as you navigate this difficult and heartbreaking process.

Thirdly, in the movie Forest Gump, Forrest describes key moments of his life’s journey to Jenny, the love of his life “- Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out. And then it was nice. It was like just before the sun goes to bed down on the bayou. There were always a million sparkles on the water. Like that mountain lake. It was so clear, Jenny, it looked like there were two skies, one on top of the other.?And then, in the desert, when the sun comes up, I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and the earth began. It was so beautiful.” Jenny responds: “I wish I could've been there with you.” Forrest simply responds. “You were.” And this perhaps is my final message to survivors that my deep belief – religious or simply spiritual, I believe my father was always with me. I would always take joy at an unexpected morning snowstorm – it was his way of saying “I am with you still.” May you find your own peace and know you’re not alone. If you remember them, they are with you. As long as they are remembered, they are with you.

?Finally, let me say to the law enforcement in this room, you have my deepest gratitude for what you do. Like my father and those courageous souls we lost this year, I know each of you steps out the door trying to do what is right for our community. It’s not easy work. Serving others and not knowing for sure if you’re coming back home at the end of the shift. I always watched my father leave our house and wondered if this was the last time I would see him.?

?So, from me, from my family, from my father – I just want to thank you for what you do, and may you return home every night and may your names never reside on this sacred wall of honor.