Thank you.
Years ago, I was staying in a dorm at Transylvania University for a conference and made my way to one of their Wal-Marts on a late-night excursion for something I’d not packed. As I walked in, a Lexington Police Department officer was entering as well. I got his attention to briefly say, “Thank you for all you do.”
I was shocked when he looked like I had just had my head spin off my shoulders. It occurred to me he might not have such words spoken to him often. It was a stark difference to the blue lines on back windshields, blue ribbons on business doors and Blue Lives Matter t-shirts I’d left in Western Kentucky. Honestly, it broke my heart when his immediate reaction wasn’t the same, modest reciprocated “thank you for saying it” we often receive here at home. As a law enforcement officer’s wife, I can tell you your “thank you” means as much to the families as it does to the officer. Maybe more. Countless times we’ve rushed through half a meal at Calvert’s Cracker Barrel, before someone seizes our ticket off the table with a smile or being told by the (always amazing) wait staff that our meal has been covered.
I cry. Every time.
Admittedly, however, I haven’t seen organizational or media recognition of the individuals who assisted on-site on January 23rd. I do know many of them, my husband included, went in on their day off to lend a hand. They suited up and were out the door so quickly, some of us at home had no idea why until a bit later. There wasn’t time for “I love yous” or our normal pre-shift routines.
That evening, and in the following weeks, I saw the shadows of what most people don’t see: a responder’s aftermath. Under my husband’s badge, under his uniform, under his vest- there was a heart broken and fractured into pieces that will never quite heal. A heart that has served overseas in a country at war, who came home different and a bit forlorn over a decade ago, still had room for more scars- and he filled a large portion of it on that day. This is not to say my husband is the lone responder who was left this way. No, I truly believe he is just one singular reflection of all the on-scene responders who brought thunder with them for the sake of our children. After all, in Marshall County, they’re all “our” children. Surrounding counties, federal agencies, state agencies and anyone who had the power to assist were there in a moment’s notice.
They left with matching internal wounds, memorializing the heartache they still feel.
This was the work of many who do not seek any recognition. If you ask them, they were just doing their job. However, I don’t want any of them to have the same reaction as the Lexington Officer because they’ve been overlooked.
How blessed we are to live in a county where, as a majority, our first responders (of all services) are loved and, of course, to live in a community wherein our first responders love them right back. Truly, they don’t work for a paycheck. They work for the payback of knowing what they do makes a difference in their town. Trooper Eric Chrisman’s words are internalized by our heroes: “God first, Family Second. Everyone is Family.”
Responders, in case you’ve not been told- thank you. Thank you for loving our families, your willingness to devote your lives to something larger than yourself and your dedication to seeing everyone you can help be helped (and for your efforts in still giving all you have to those who can’t).
Submitted by Brandi Greenfield