Police funerals

I hate police funerals. I hate seeing such strong men cry. I hate to cry. I feel that I don't have the right to when it was someone I never met. Not that it stops me.

I didn't go to Officer Talbot's funeral, I just went to the wake. I asked my boss if I could go and told him I'd need a patrol car. He said I'd get comp time and he sent out an email telling anyone that they could go with me. There are 16 of us, but I ended up going by myself. One of my coworkers asked, "Do you know a lot of those guys in Revere?" As if I'd only go if I knew them. No, I don't, though I met some at the wake. Aren't I allowed to go just to show my support? If I were shot and killed I bet some Revere cops would come to my funeral. I hope they would because it would be a small service if only my coworkers came. It kind of ticked me off that none of my coworkers could be bothered to come.

So there I was, standing around in my flat hat and my green and gray. I was like an orange surrounded by apples. Everyone else was wearing blue. There were a couple sheriffs deputies and some environmental police in green, but there were hundreds of cops in blue and I was uncomfortable, not being able to blend in. The first federal badges I saw drew me in, they were Secret Service and I was happy to see them. There were several of them there, even though they didn't know Officer Talbot. What is wrong with my coworkers? What is wrong with the Park Service?

Some Worcester deputies took me in and I stood next to them as we lined up outside the church. It took a long time. One by one we filed in, saluted Officer Talbot where he lay in his casket under paintings of angels, and marched out.

Outside I was standing around, wondering if that was it. What else goes on at a wake? Once again, some friendly officers took me in. One of the Waltham officers, John, introduced himself and then introduced me to all his friends. I met Mike, Kevin, and several others. We talked about bagpipes, kayaking, hunting, and John and Kevin told me stories of their Army service in Bosnia. Whenever a Revere officer would go by, John would stop them to shake their hands and say, "I'm sorry for your loss." They all thanked us for coming.

Then we went back into the church. This time, hat less, we one at a time stood at the casket and prayed. The Catholics crossed themselves. I cried this time as I walked in. It was the paintings on the ceiling that did it, the angels. I wondered why they couldn't have nudged that bullet somewhere else. I knew they were there. I wish they would've protected him. Why is one of those questions we won't have the answer to in this life. I looked at his face and I said my prayer for his family. They were in the front row, his family, and we filed past and shook their hands. I cried, what could I say?

I followed John, Mike, and Kevin to where all the pictures were. That's when John started sobbing, when he saw the picture of their Army unit. That's when I realized he'd fought in Bosnia with Dan Talbot. They were battle buddies. I wondered if anyone had told John they were sorry for his loss.

When we got outside John went off and brought me a water (it was hot in our fancy uniforms). I couldn't look at him or I'd have cried. How could he be so good, nice, and thoughtful at his friend's wake?

Craig W. Floyd, Chairman and CEO of the National Law Enforcement Officer Memorial Fund states, "we are now seeing a spike in fatal shootings of officers...cases which have generally been declining in recent years." The NLEOMF reports that "preliminary data indicate 101 local, state and federal law enforcement officers were killed between January 1 and June 30, 2007, an increase from the 70 officers who lost their lives during the same period of 2006. The last time the mid-year total was that high was 1978, when there were 105 officer deaths. By year-end that year, 213 officers had been killed in the line of duty. In 2006, the year-end total was 145."

Yesterday I went sailing with Ken and Jeff. I met Ken at the Highland Games in New Hampshire a couple of weeks ago. They're both structural engineers and they sounded a lot like my dad, the way they talked so excitedly about really boring stuff (sorry, Dad, it's true). We had a fun trip. Sometimes it seemed like hours would go by with hardly a word being said. It was so peaceful and relaxing and I didn't have to think about murdered officers lying in caskets under paintings of angels. All I had to do was watch the water and islands go by. Ken did put me to work steering for a little while in the morning (not that it's a whole lot of work to wiggle the rudder around). Once again I found that me, boats, and going straight don't seem to mix well. It was really nice to feel I have non-cop friends. I didn't know that hanging out with engineers could be so good for me, but I needed it. And sailing is really cool! Ken's boat is 22 feet long, so it's a small boat, but it seems to me that the small ones are easier to handle. I got a little sun burnt, but I guess that's just my MO. The weather was gorgeous and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Of course, now I want to learn to sail. One more thing to add to my list.

Nemo me impune lacessit.