It was a beautiful day and the kids and I were playing outside in the front yard. A police car pulled in the driveway, and the sheriff got out. This is the sheriff that came to my door on the morning of November 15, 2008 to tell me my husband was killed. For having to be the bearer of such devastating news, he really was wonderful. He was extremely kind and compassionate, and stayed with us as long as we needed him that day.
He told me he had thought several times about stopping by to say hello and check on us, but each time he stopped himself because he was afraid of bringing us pain. Since we happened to be out front when he drove by, he decided to take the chance. I'm glad he did - as hard as it was to see him, I know that it probably meant a lot to him to see us and see for himself that we're hanging in there and doing OK. Jacob clutched my leg during his brief visit, and that indicated to me that he had to have remembered this man as well, and the feelings he associates with him. Sydney, fortunately, had no idea.
I handled his visit surprisingly well, and didn't feel the full impact of it until a few minutes after he left. It hurt. Seeing his face, hearing his voice. I remember the words he said to me that day, like it was yesterday.