A Symbol of Hope As She Rises From the Ashes

I’ve hated it when people say I am strong because I always think that I don’t feel strong, that in the middle of the night when tears come out of nowhere and I find myself sobbing for the life I’ve lost, I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel strong when the grief creeps up and packs a punch that takes me to my knees. When people ask me how I do it, I think to myself, “What choice did I have?”

When I was introduced before I spoke a few weeks ago to a roomful of Law Enforcement Officers as Grubby’s surviving widow, everyone stood up and applauded me, giving me a standing ovation before I’d even opened my mouth.

I thanked them, but said they didn’t need to clap for me, that it was my husband who was the hero, not me. Upon looking back on that day, and that initial applause, I realized that I am a hero, not only to them, but to others who know what our life has been like for the past three years. I realized that we – all of my FirstHelp survivor family – are ALL heroes. We picked ourselves up, and we kept going, even when it felt as though we didn’t have any more to give. We are ALL heroes, no matter where we are in our journey, because we get up every day and we face another day without our heroes. Most of us do it without much support from their departments, and very few of us do it with any financial assistance or Line of Duty Benefits from the state. Some of us have adopted children, started foundations, helped draft laws, and done outreach within our own communities, but ALL of us have gotten up every day.

When I step out and look at my life from another perspective, I see the strength, the determination, and the resiliency that others say they see. I can see that I have been through the worst thing that can ever happen to a person and I’m still standing most of the time. I adopted another person’s child to raise, I get up, I keep going.

At this point, I was already planning to get my next tattoo… a Phoenix, La Fenice! I have spent over a year looking at Phoenix tats all over the web. I knew that this one had to be just right and be exactly what I wanted. Most of the ones I saw were red, orange, and yellow, but I wanted more color – LOTS more, to be clear. I’d also seen that most of the ones I was seeing appeared angry and vengeful, and I knew that I didn’t want to carry anger with me every day. So, I needed a bright, colorful Phoenix that wasn’t out for revenge. After months and months of studying my favorites, I finally chose her.

I asked to add in the date that my Phoenix began to rise again, the date I lost Grubby, but not to make it too obvious. I added a Latin phrase, “Alis volat propriis” … She flies with her own wings. For five hours I sat, as my artist created La Fenice on my upper left arm. I fell in love with her immediately (not my artist, although she is truly a gem, but with my ink). In all, I think we used 13 colors, and she rises, with hope and peace instead of vengefulness. Within her outline, there is a tiny bit of Grubby, and she truly is “rising from the ashes” (Shhhhh… don’t tell my artist that I added him before she added the black ink to the little tub!).

From the Hellish fires within my soul on the day Grubby died, the day a part of me died alongside him, to the beautiful, bright, and graceful symbol of hope that I aspire to be, my story is on display for the world to see…