I had started watching the show Outlander on Netflix a few weeks before the news of my niece's death. Less than 2 years ago I had learned my ancestry was chalk full of Irish and Scottish, much to my surprise. 45% Irish 31% Scottish with the rest a mash of Polish, French, Finnish and Scandinavian. This at first took me by complete surprise. I was told my whole life that I was Native American, Polish, French and a mix of everything American. But as science grows, we learn more and more about what genetics can carry through and so I grew to want to learn more about an innate love I'd always held for bagpipes, the desire to visit Ireland and Scottish history.
The last few days I've been hit down with a severe stomach bug. I will say the 6 pounds I've dropped have gotten me back on track with my weight loss goals. But it has given me time to think. Time I don't want to have. I can't work out, my muscles ache from the illness. I can't work, my head is racked with awful headaches and my heartache interferes with the passion I previously had for my work. And so I am left with my mind and kids. In the moments they nap I've tried catching up with my show but the bagpipes and stag standing in solidarity, catch in my throat in ways I cannot explain.
They give me too much time to think. Or more like they hit a nerve that brings me back to Tara. Something I try to find time NOT to do. But I am forced to.
In a few weeks we will be participating in a 5k for the Canine Unit my niece worked with. I could easily bury my head in the sand, but i did that for far too long and I'm done doing it. So we are signing up as a family. I used to run, and often. It was my medicine. I even did a very slow half marathon across the golden gate bridge once upon a time, one that Tara herself cheered me on through. But almost 2 years ago I bulged a disc and swore off running. But for this, I make an exception. My own goal is to complete the 5k in 34 minutes and 9 seconds in honor of her badge, 349. Most likely, I will NOT make this time. I ran 32 minutes in my best post baby baby condition. But I will try. And that brings me to this picture. Probably one of my most cherished pictures aside from the birth of my babies and nieces and nephews.
This 5k will support the K9 unit and the chaplaincy. And I have to find a way to give back. Because without knowing, this moment in time that I somehow got lucky enough to capture gave us a piece of my niece back.
These moments I share are forever some of the most humble, broken, shattered and vulnerable pieces of my being. This is my son who is on the autism spectrum. He doesn't do well in loud or unusual or unfamiliar settings. He is 4. He especially doesn't do well with noise and strangers. Especially with both. Tara took to him like a glove. He never gave her a second thought or pushed her away, but was drawn to her like he is to water. On this particular day we (my mom and me) were called and drove as fast as we could to a funeral home for the worst call ever. We only hoped to beat the media and get there in time to support my sister, her husband and her kids... knowing I had him with me I fought an internal battle of staying back or going. THIS moment, this human being makes me glad we went. The entire drive there I battled within myself, fighting how he would react, how I would gauge my own emotions of losing my beloved niece, how I'd try to be there for her mom and family, all while handling my son's special needs, the deep intense pain of losing Tara and so, so much more.
We drove up to the first police barrier and he asked me to pull to the side when I meekly expressed we had questions. After he flagged on what felt like an eon of traffic he walked over to my expedition and I explained we were family. His face immediately grew somber and I nervously explained I had my ID in the car and knew her birth name and date of birth and whatever he needed, and that I had her grandmother in my car. He asked for none of it. Instead he apologized, which left me completely flabbergasted and said, "I should have seen the family likeness in your smile when you waited so patiently at the side of the road for me, I'm deeply sorry for your family's loss'." I couldn't respond. We haven't looked alike since I was many, many pounds slimmer and many years younger in my mind, but I was more upset that he was upset. My response was, "You couldn't have known, thank you for all you do. I won't keep you any longer but please hug your loved ones and know we appreciate all you do" and I turned around and squared my shoulders. This was the first I would experience of "got your six". Probably the first in my entire life, aside from how my Tara always had mine in my own previous domestic violence situation.
I won't go through every moment between now and this picture, because those are mine and my mother's and my son's. And we have shared so very many other moments with the public that we don't feel the need to share everything anymore.
But I somehow became in charge of taking pictures. My ASD son on my arm and I captured as many pictures of my niece being escorted into the funeral home away from the media as I could. I took a moment and my mom and sisters and the rest of the family stepped into the funeral home. I took a breath, one I barely gathered. One I don't really remember taking but as I took it my son said, 'Mommy where is Tara?'. And in that moment my son who is only half verbal expressed what my very soul was SCREAMING as I watched her flag covered casket be carried into the arches of the funeral home. In that moment a part of my soul felt pure agony, deeper than I've ever felt before. I turned his head to me, I stepped back behind all the family and I kissed him and I cried silent tears hoping to shield him and hide behind in moments while I caught my breath. There were far too many police officers saluting and I didn't dare do them a disservice in crying. Too many of them had spent their decades of years on the front lines, too many of them had watched my niece die as some were her unit. I wasn't going to breakdown. I was going to honor her. I was going to be as strong for her as she had always been for me.
And as the last person walked in behind her flag covered casket, I felt something tapping me on my shoulder. I looked back and nothing was there. I turned around and picked up my 4 year old son, with the realization that he would never remember her face, her smile, her love for him. And JUST as I was about to lose it, G pointed to a dog... The very last officer standing guard next to the funeral door was standing watch with his K9 officer. He tugged at my ear, his version of asking me to look at something and pointed to the dog (back story, I'm terrified of German Shepard's due to a childhood close attack) and so I caught my breath looking at this very strong K9 that my son desperately wanted to pet. I whispered back in his ear that this wasn't the time, knowing he wouldn't understand and in those brief moments. And then Sgt. Joshua Dobson and his co-officer K9 Jax brought a piece of Tara back to us that they will never know.
Sgt Dobson made eye contact with me and then looked at my son and asked if he would like to say hi. I remember him kneeling down on one knee and calming my mother's fear and trauma and pain in 2 seconds flat. This officer brought calm to my son, in the most chaotic of situations - my ASD son no less, and me. I was terrified to walk into that room. I was terrified to bring my son to say goodbye. I was NOT ready. None of us were. But I felt thrown into an impossible situation and clueless on how to be thrust into this situation with my ASD kid and just like Tara would have done ... there was a loving dog and a kind person's eyes. HE was her for those few seconds. Jax and he brought her back for us, for however many moments we needed, they were there. I did not want to let go. Somehow, with my sister's phone I caught a poorly posed photo, but it speaks so many memories and moments to me, It speaks the bravery of a unit that very few can understand. This man and his K9 gave a moment to me and Tara's cousin a piece of her. Their bravery in these moments .... is insurmountable to each of us. And for that I am forever grateful.
THIS is what she would have done. She would have been knee deep in protocol and police officer training and she would have found this moment to serve the community and little boy, just like JAX and Sgt Dobson did. She had amazing role models, she had aspirations to work the K9 unit because she knew on a personal level how deep these K9 can reach. Even an autistic kid *what the world would label my kid* feels and knows and can reach. Greyson doesn't do well with humans. But he loves dogs, despite my deep innate fear of them. He has talked about his cousin every, single damn day since in random moments even. But he also talks about the 'dark wolf dog who runs with a deer' and I can show him any number of pictures and it isn't them. I show him this picture and he says yes, with a smile and he says Jax and Tara (mind you he is only 60% verbal). This officer somehow, someway gave us a piece of her back even if just for a moment. He gave my son a piece of her that I will forever share this picture and tell him about, because my biggest fear is him forgetting this fierce, infectious, happy, determined cousin who loved him deeper than he will ever know.
Thank you Officer Dobson and Jax. You gave us so much more than just protection. You are forever our family of blue even if we cannot ever give the sacrifice you so freely give, we will try to give back as much as we can. You are our heroes, thank you for showing us the way. Thank you for showing us another glimpse of Tara along the way. Words will never express my gratitude as a mother, as an aunt, as a citizen. We will never be able to give enough, but we will try every single day. Thank you.
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