Instead of sitting around a table with all my relatives, opening gifts, and catching up on lost time, I spent this Christmas watching my father on TV. No, my dad's not a famous actor, he's not a talk show host, or a meteorologist. My father is a police officer. And this Christmas I watched him on TV, as he responded to the murder-suicide of a mother and her two children.
The morning didn't start out this way. In fact, it was going pretty great, like any other Christmas morning. Until he got the call. And if you're a spouse or child of an officer, or have ever spent significant time with one, you know exactly the call I'm talking about. And you know the look of dread on their face when they answer. They've just gotten called in, and if they're a homicide detective like my father is, that also translates to "there's been a murder."
Usually, it's the same old routine, he puts on his suit that he brought just in case. He says his goodbyes and jumps in his cruiser, off to wherever he's been ordered. But being on Christmas Day, it was just that much more dreadful. I was reminded again of my father's profession, and what it entails. The sacrifices it requires. Police officers spend the large majority of their lives, whether on the clock or off, working. This is something that is accepted by those closest to them. And their kind of work doesn't care if it's Christmas and your daughter is home from college. It doesn't care that this is all she's been looking forward to for months. But I kiss him goodbye, and say a prayer, as I do every time he leaves.
Instead of passing around my grandma's homemade cooking, watching the little cousins play with their new toys, and feeling the overbearing love and joy that Christmas has to offer, my dad stood on a cold sidewalk corner, overseeing a gruesome, yet all too familiar crime scene.
And as much as I hope he forgets what he sees every day, I know he doesn't.
I know he will remember this Christmas for years to come.
As will I.
So next time you're walking down the street with your friends and flip off a cruiser, or next time you start to type "f*** the police" because it makes you sound edgy, remember how my dad, and countless others, spent their Christmas this year. Remember what they sacrifice for you daily. Remember their families spending the holidays without them. And remember that they do this, not for money or for power, but because they know they're the only ones who will.
