Had a mandatory thing at 9 that wasnt over until about ten til 11...Jasons funeral was at 11oclock across town, so I went to the cemetery though Im not clear what compelled me to do this. Unlike the dense fog covering the city when I left home this morning, the cemetery was now bathed in sunshine...that truly brilliant kind that only happens on crisp fall days and the grounds were dappled with sun and shade intermingled where trees stand as sentries watching over loved ones. I sat gaping at the special area reserved for fallen officers, at the shined memorial plaque, the flags at half staff billowing gently on the breeze, like sentinels waiting oh so respectfully. Then I allowed my gaze to shift to the tents, the empty chairs waiting to be filled with family and friends of our fallen one...finally they rested on the open vault which I knew was resting above the open tomb in preparation of receiving the earthly remains of the much loved and respected, Corporal Jason Harwood. I was at once inundated by a multitude of emotions...of course there was overwhelming sadness for those being left behind, his wife, children, twin brother Jeremy, the rest of his blood family and his family in blue, basically anyone he came into contact with. Then came uncontrolled anger...anger that I and all of these other people were dealing with this sadness, that there is a need for this special area, that those who have so little respect for others still draw breath and those who would, and did lay down their lives to keep us from harm, took the time to show future generations the meaning of respect, worked tirelessly to make their community a safer place...then with a flick of red, white and blue in the corner of my eye, I was washed in the serenity of my surroundings once again...I said a prayer and drove away with every intention of coming home. Instead, on my way home I was once again, lead if you will, to do something else. I wound up in a parking lot on the procession route, watching the live feed of the services (once I learned that they were on), standing with hundreds of others along these miles, flag (loaned to me by a nice lady in the next vehicle over) in hand...waiting, waiting to pay our respects. I was alone, so it afforded me the opportunity to watch not only the services, but to people watch as well. I have never been in a crowd for this purpose and pray that I never will be again...the outpouring of community support was a heartening sight to see, the quiet calmness was so refreshing, then, respectful silence as miles of law enforcement vehicles, fire apparatus and vehicles, ambulances, family and friends streamed past...even small children seemed to be aware of the need to be quieter than they might normally be...it struck me, and it was beautiful to behold all of these strangers standing here for a common purpose...and it was good! The Potawatomi Tribal Police vehicles passed and I became selfish in my sorrow, knowing that if Mike were still here, we would have been together, he and I, our daughter and her family, supporting Mel for losing a friend and me for losing who I knew as a rookie officer while I wasnt much more than a rookie dispatcher myself and then I shook myself and realized that didnt matter... Whether a close personal friend, someone I had known for years or two minutes, or never met at all...he was a fellow human being that was taken senselessly and too soon! Something that took four hours to experience has now been communicated here in an hour and a half and thinking of it in those terms makes me stop and realize with a fresh bout of sorrow, just what Jasons family and friends are facing. Some of you are mutual friends and I reiterate that if there is anything I can do in the coming days, please do not hesitate to ask. I respect, admire and appreciate each of you who has chosen to serve their community, whether from behind a badge, fire hose, stethoscope or dispatch console, you are in my prayers.
Posted on: Sat, 13 Sep 2014 21:38:23 +0000
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