When I woke up the morning of July 8, the house was very quiet. This was especially strange because both of my parents were off today, so I expected to hear the television, their voices, coffee brewing, etc. However, when I walked into the living room, they both sat with grim faces looking at the TV. The volume was turned down low, but I could grasp the story from the headlines flashing on the bottom of the screen: police officers had been targeted in Dallas, and five were dead.
I didn't meet my mother's eyes, but I knew, looking at my father out of the corner of my eye, that she and I were thinking the same thing: What if it had been him?
My family has been involved in law enforcement for years. My grandfather was a police officer in the Boston area; my father is currently a police officer; and my older brother is considering the profession as well. This is something that I have always been proud of, something I used to boast about as a child: My daddy is a police officer!
My father's work seemed so important to me then: he caught the bad guys! He kept everyone safe!
But now, in the wake of two attacks targeting police officers, I can't help but wonder, who is keeping him safe?
As he works late and I pack his lunch for the next day, I can't help but scribble on a napkin: I love you. Be safe.
As I hand out an ice cream to a local police officer at the shop where I work, I smile and thank him for his business. I can't help but think about the note that I have tucked in his bag: Thank you for all that you do. Be safe tonight.
Because wishing that they will be safe is all that I can do anymore. Because of the actions of a small number among them, police officers have become targets. Men, like my father, go into work every day knowing that there is a target on their backs.
Every time he walks out our front door, my father makes a sacrifice. My family makes a sacrifice for others in our community. We understand that there may come a day when my father trades his life for a stranger's. But will there ever come a time when a stranger would trade his life for my father's?
When police officers are busy protecting innocent civilians, who, besides themselves, is protecting them? Besides the fellow officers in the department, who is watching out for each officer? Protecting him or her? Standing by him or her?
These men and women put on a uniform every day. They go in to work, put in their eight hours, and come home to their families. They are humans, just like each of us. They are not filled with hatred, malice or violence. They are police officers. They are here to protect and serve. And it's time we started acknowledging their sacrifices and appreciating the work that they do to keep our communities safe.
I love you, Dad. Be safe today.
