Death.

Her once bright and vibrant red hair had thinned and faded. Her breathing was shallow and would occasionally break into short fits of coughing. Her pupils were constricted from the morphine given to ease the pain. The cancer had taken hold and her time to leave this world was near.

I sat this afternoon for a few minutes with a woman I have known for almost all of my life. The mother of the man who married my oldest sister. I met her when I was five years old. I swam in her pool and she made me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Koolaid.

I left the care facility and rode away on a motorcycle I'd borrowed. I stopped by my own father's grave and cleared some weeds from around the headstone. I rode for some time thinking about these events. I realized that I was not wearing any of the usual protective gear that I make a habit of using. I thought of the road as it passed by and saw mental glimpses of what a crash at these speeds would do. I've seen enough riders injured and killed to know what that's like. For a moment, death seemed everywhere.

I caught a glimpse of my shadow on the roadside. I looked up at the beautiful hills and quickly cleared my head. Life was beautiful and life went on.

Law Officers deal with death on a regular basis. Whether it is in investigating natural death, suicide, homicide, or the thought that you may be required to cause the death of another in order to protect yourself or others.

One of the less enjoyable things in Law Enforcement is notifying families that their loved one has died. Despite the difficulty and unpleasantness of this task, it's always interresting seeing the different reactions of the group. What is certain is that everyone will be at a different stage of grief.

I was taught the Kubler-ross model of grief in Parmedic school. This model states that there are five stages of grief that people go through when faced with the loss of a loved one. They are as follows:

1) Denial.

2) Anger.

3) Bargaining.

4) Depression.

5) Acceptance.

How fast a person goes through these stages depends in large part on their own environment and psyche. According to some who have gone through the loss of a loved one, sometimes you can cycle back through some of the stages.

Early one morning, while working as a Paramedic, my partner and I received a "man down" call. We responded and found firefighters giving CPR to a male in his 60's. There were several signs indicating that this man was dead. I received an order from the Emergency Room Physician to cancel life saving efforts.

I went outside and met with the wife who was sitting on a chair. I asked her what her husband's name was and told her that he had died. What was intriguing about this woman's response was that she cycled through the stages of grief within about 30 seconds. She said something to the effect of, "No it can't be true. Damnit, why did you have to die? Please, is there anything you can do? I don't know what I'm going to do. Alright, what do we have to do?" Hopefully she didn't notice my jaw, which had dropped as we listened to her going through the stages of grief right before our eyes.

Death makes men human. I sat with a young father recently who's infant had died in it's bassinet. It was a particularly difficult and emotionally draining call. Despite all this man's rough exterior, being raised in a harsh central California city, and past run-ins with Police, we were able to sit and talk as just two people. All of the external veneer had fallen away exposing a person who was hurt and didn't know what to do.

When I was a young Deputy, I was called on to help recover the body of a 12 year old Hmong boy from the river. The boy had drown trying to cross the river while fishing two weeks previous. His body had not been found until that morning. My partner and I responded and recovered the boy's body. I went to the home of the young boy and found his father who was surrounded by approximately 30 to 40 family members. I told him that we had found his son and that he had died. The man held back tears as he thanked me and pulled back into the group. He was literally enveloped in the love of his family.

Our bodies are like a cup holding water. If the cup breaks, then it cannot hold water anymore. So too are our bodies. If disease or trauma damages our bodies enough, then it can no longer hold life.

I don't have a great closing for this post. It's something that's been on my mind for some time. I dedicate this to Donna who made me the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a little boy and loved me all of my life.