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Thread: So many cop bashing threads........

  1. #1
    Thought I'd post this for my fellow brothers working away from their families this Christmas.
    A Police Story.. The writer is a former police officer.
    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, I got a radio call to the home of an elderly, terminally ill man. I parked my radio car in front of a simple Sunset style home. I walked up the short path to the front door. As I approached, the door opened and a elderly women about 80 motioned me into the house and said " he's in here", 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 had an afghan blanket draped over it's back and a dark solid Queen
    Anne chair was next to an 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 theblanket 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 jewelrycase.
    There were also several photos in simple frames. One caught my eye and I walked over 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.

  2. #2
    Hey where ya been lately pumper??

  3. #3
    Working my ass off. :cry: :rollside:

  4. #4
    Hard to read that without tears.

  5. #5
    Thanks for making me cry....

  6. #6
    A very touching story................keeping things in perspective.

  7. #7
    H20 Toie
    dud e that is amazing makes me cry

  8. #8
    What a great story ! And thanks to all the LEO's who risk their lives for us every day. Be safe brothers !

  9. #9
    You shoulda put some sort of warning on that story, it's too early to cry. Touching indeed.

  10. #10
    thanks mudpumper... keeps the perspective... luckily I'm off this Christmas, first time in a long time. I also hope everyone one that has to work stays safe.

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