According to the planet's foremost source of information, Wikipedia, the Kingda Ka roller coaster at the Six Flag's Great Adventure in New Jersey is reportedly the world's tallest roller coaster and its second fastest. The Kingda Ka is 456 feet tall, that's over 45 stories, with a top speed of 128 MPH, which is achieved in 3.5 seconds. The entire ride lasts only 28 seconds. That's insane. And anyone who dares to ride that thing, for the brief 28 seconds or not of sheer hell, is nuts. Take note, I think it goes without saying that I have no plans to ride that monster or any roller coaster for that matter...cuz I'd be this guy...
This last month or so for me has been my own roller coaster. And there have been moments of sheer terror, of joy and, of sorrow.
I went out for the evening and to dinner one night. By the end of it, a fellow officer from my department would be dead. It was not a line of duty death and, sadly, it was expected. It just wasn't expected to be on that day. He and his family, his wife and daughter, had made plans to have a special daddy-daughter day at a city park. He had stage 4 brain cancer and he knew he was going to die. So, they set up this event to have one more lasting memory for his daughter. She got a wedding dress knowing that he wouldn't be there to walk her down the isle when that time came. Working the midnight shift, I wasn't there. I saw the photographs later. They were beautiful. She was stunning. As they were involved in this memorable occasion, my brother in blue would take his last breath right then and there. How emotionally bittersweet.
He was laid to rest a week later. As a member of the Honor Guard, I was privileged to be a part of this final farewell. I served as one of the many casket guards during the viewing, standing right next to him as he laid there in his Class A uniform. But it wasn't until the very end of the service, when family, friends, and other loved ones were making their way out and saying their last good byes and condolences to the family when it hit me. I walked up to the edge of casket, came to attention, and rendered my own final salute. And I looked down and saw him. Saw him as the husband that he was...and the father, the brother, the son, and the friend. It struck me like a ton of bricks. Just out of nowhere. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. In an effort to maintain that proverbial "be strong for the family" mindset, I knew I had to end the moment. I slowly dropped my salute and turned to his wife and daughter, telling them how sorry I was for their loss and how much he loved them both. The next day, he was buried in Crownville Veterans Cemetery.
During this time, I was still making final preparations for the family of one of the officers, Lieutenant Thomas Forbes, whom I was going to be riding for in the Police Unity Tour. An interview of one of the officer's daughters, Lauren, struck a chord with me. So, I tracked her down and reached out to her. Her father, a police officer for nearly 31 years, had committed suicide and now she was speaking out about it and mental wellness within the law enforcement community. After I told her that I would be riding in the Police Unity Tour to honor her father, she spoke with her mother and sister. They agreed that they would make the trip to our nation's capitol to be there when I, and the rest of the almost 2,000 members of the Tour, would arrive at the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial. I was so incredibly moved that they would make that journey, that I promised to cover their travel expenses. But, as roller coasters go with their extreme ups and downs, my vision of riding onto the hallowed grounds of the Memorial came crashing, literally crashing, to an end less than a week before the start of the Tour. I got into a bad wreck on my final training ride which put me out of the event.
Yet, this venture was never about me. It was always about the family and their husband and father. So, when they landed at Reagan-National Airport, I was at least their to meet them...finally. I was humbled and honored. My bad luck, though, didn't stop the Forbes' family and they continued with their pilgrimage. As I talked to each one of the briefly while we made our way back to Reagan-National towards their respective departure flights, they all said that the trip had been a part of their much larger journey of healing. Later, when one of them posted a photograph on Facebook that showed Lieutenant Forbes' picture deservedly taped to the Wall, like so many others who sacrificed, I was brought to tears.
On the day of the Tour's arrival, I had surgery on my left hand. My gun hand. I sustained a pretty significant injury to it in my bike wreck the week before. As I took inventory of all of my injuries, I realized that my career hung in the balance of the success of this surgery, my healing from it, and then my yet-to-occur therapy and recovery. The surgeon and the PA from the orthopaedic office all said "the surgery was textbook" and "it looks good", but there are no guarantees in life. And certainly not with an offense to my aging body such as this. Policing is a young man's game. Sure, experience is crucial, but the bottom line is, if things go south, like they can in the blink of an eye, you gotta be, not only able to go from zero to a hundred in a nanosecond, but then finish the fight. That takes strength and stamina. I'm not saying I'm not strong or fit for my age (and size), but, let's face it, I'm dealing with shitheads half my age. So, the question is then...am I strong and fit for their age? When I lay down to go to bed at night to try and get some sleep with the wounds, bruises, aches, and pains that my body feels right now...I'm not so sure.
And that's the physical side of it all. My mind is on its own Kingda Ka. Maybe this is the life of a police officer. Like I've mentioned before, politicians and media have been raking our asses over the coals for a while now. It's no bullshit that that kind of stuff works over our emotions as well. As a member of my county police's peer support team, we had been asked to respond to Baltimore to talk to those men and women in blue up there. There's bound to be emotional and mental fallout from that. Its been rough. This up and down and up and down shit wears me out. So, I dunno, is this the life of a police officer...?
Or is it just mine?
