As I sat in a staff meeting Friday, friends in the Jackson, Mississippi, area forwarded pictures of the "Final Patrol" of Pearl police officer Mike Walter, who was killed in a gun battle while serving a warrant.
The collection of patrol vehicles from across the state was impressive as they escorted Walter's funeral car and his family from Jackson through the streets of Pearl on to Pinelake Church.
We have the duty to honor our dead, especially to those who daily put themselves between civilized society and those people and situations that seek to cause harm.
We see them on our streets in patrol cars, ambulances and fire engines. We teach our children to respect them, to feel safe around them. We use the term hero because they have chosen a profession that gives us the opportunity to live in safety.
They are the people who intervene in our living nightmare as our possessions burn before our eyes, or as a loved one slips away. They have trained to silence their fears for a time so that we may be comforted by their actions.
Yet through it all they are daughters, sons, husbands, wives, mothers and fathers. They go home each day thankful for their safety. They pray for that safety in one breath; with the next they pray for grace and peace for those they love should misfortune befall their watch. That is one fear that cannot be muted.
This weekend hundreds of men and women who are sworn to serve and protect will commit their fallen brother to rest, as a young girl and her mother look on. Stoic faces of officers, firefighters, and medics will hide the anguish raging inside, for they see their own loved one's faces in those of that daughter and wife.
In time, flags will be raised to full staff and badges will be uncovered. Family and friends will return to their lives. A daughter and a mother will shoulder the reality of an empty chair in their home. A quick smile, hugs, or laughter from a father will never return. A wife will sleep next to an empty pillow as her community heals.
Future memorial services will see this man's name cast in bronze and cut into stone. He will be remembered for his sacrifice, yet no adulation, no honor, no memorial can replace what these two have lost.
As responders, the greatest memorial we can give our family is not having our name among those plaques of bronze and marble. Though future generations may see those names, the greater blessing is knowing the souls those names represent.
Look upon the faces of the survivors, and commit yourselves to going home....
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