Officer Bradley Moody

      I’m Crazy. I’ve memorized numbers, list, and words everything that has to do with an officer. One thousand four hundred thirty five is how many officers will die in California on average for every fifty three hours. I mean I’m eating toast for breakfast and then BAM! Another set of numbers that remind me that there are people in this world that are dying to protect us. Officer Bradley Moody was one of them.

      I wake up to the soft sound of rain tickling my window. I lay awake in bed looking at my clock every minute wish I could freeze time since I had to work in about an hour.  I hop in the shower and begin lathering shampoo into my scalp; I let the warmth of the water wash over my body. I rub my body with soap letting my skin turn soapy white, watching the water wash away the white leaving nothing but clean tan skin behind. Wrap my head with a towel and I begin with my make up. My ipod begins to blast music which brings me into a mellow mood. I apply lotion to my skin and then apply mascara.

      “Evelyn wake up you need to take me to work soon.”

I pour myself a bowl of cereal .I begin to enjoy my delicious cereal filed with cinnamon in every bit when  I receive a tex message disturbing my concentration, it was my friend reminding me that I need to start heading to work before I was late. Feeling a little upset since I didn’t get enough time to finish my cereal, I head off to the police department. The rain has slowed down to just a drizzle, across the bridge we see caution tape, never a good sign  we drive by and there it was  like a movie scene laid out in front of us.

      The world seem too slow down and I was stuck in that split second you know where your mind hasn’t caught up to your emotions so your just stuck  there in a thoughtless and emotionless stage.

      Glass shattered on black wet concrete road; the pole and the black and white patrol car wrapped around each other like long lost lovers reunited. The number twenty seven was seen clearly across the end of the car perfectly printed, that second if the world was dead quite, if the wind was put on mute, if the radio was turned down, you would have heard me heart drop to the pit of stomach making a small thud sound. Twenty seven, I know that number. I know that Officer, he always made me laugh, he was too sweet, and he had the biggest smile in the world I’m talking about that ear to ear smile.

      “He will live don’t worry” my sister said

      “Are you sure, I mean it looks bad”

      “I’m sure don’t worry”

I think back to that day and I truly and deeply believed he was going to live, I mean I trusted my sister’s words so much because I had faith that he would. I prayed the word that she uttered were true and not just said to calm me down. I never told my sister this but I believed in what she said whole heartily and  when I found out he died I felt betrayed. I was heartbroken and I had no one to blame but her. When my shifted ended I went home and cried in my mothers arms wondering why life was too unpredictable.

      “Ten Lincoln Seven will forever log off” Forever. The word lingered into the unusually warm air, swirling around everyone thoughts flying, through everyone’s tears that mourn the death of a hero. Record ladies known for being the most hard ass uptight women god has ever created, had swollen eyes,  mascara ran down there facing, leaving behind a trail of black lines. Two hundred Officers, blue uniform pressed to perfection are looking down holding back their tears afraid that one single tear would lead to the explosion of emotions that they kept bottled up inside them.

      I don’t care what anyone says you never feel more proud of this country then when you hear the bagpipes at a peace officers memorial. The light tune sets the mood for pride, and mourning combined. The time keeper continue to tap his foot to the music count, and each time he does I feel myself leaving  the memorial mentally and think back to how he always smiled no matter what. I’m then sucked into a beautiful memory of him.

                  It was another boring day in the office and I was taking my lunch break when I see car number twenty seven driving into the police department.

      “Hey Moody what are you up to”

Moody pulls up in front of me and points to the back of the portal car and says

      “Just another day in the office”

He said with his normal soothing casual voice. With his famous ear to ear smile he point to the back of his patrol car where a suspect is seated looking as if he was having a bad day.

      “Yeah tell me about it work is a little slow”

      “Yeah tell me about”

I laugh Officer Moody always had a sense of humor.

      I smile to myself but only for a second I’m mentally brought back to the memorial and I hear the Pastor deep and scratchy voice introduce Moody’s wife (the pastor happened to be Moody’s wife cousin).

“With great honor I will present Ms. Moody to give a few words about her husband.”

      She stood up with great effort walking, wear a simple black dress with classy sunglasses, and nice high heels that made her seem well put together rather then looking  distraught (which I expect is what she  was feeling), holding a simple white handkerchief. She walks up the stairs which lead to the stage  holding onto the rail taking her time. She looks at the crowd and takes a deep breath.

      “The second I saw Moody’s smile I knew I would marry him.”

Fresh set of tears fall down faces; restart the handing out of tissues, re starting the open wound of sorrow, restarting the pain. She walks over to the closed casket and there she stands. The American flag laying neatly on top of it the red, blue and white stars standing out so vibrate as she lays her hands on the casket, you see her slowly lift her  handkerchief to her face and wipe away a single quite teardrops  that she is unable to keep inside. Her two daughters both blonde with white milky skin dressed in black making them seem paler, and angle like. Her words continue to replay in my head

      “I will tell our daughters about you everyday, about the way you loved and cared for them.”

They each place a rose on top of the casket. We all stare at her the widow that lost her husband. The pastor waits by the widow’s side just in case she trembles and falls. She doesn’t but you could see her pale white hands trembling holding onto her handkerchief , you could see her under lip beginning  to tremble and she lets it out, the soft utter of tears flowing down. She walks down the stairs to be seated and you see her short blond hair flow down to cover her pale face as she takes her sunglasses off to wipe her eyes. She has soft light blue eyes that look tired and sad. Their puffy and red looking like she has cried for days, she knows all eyes are on her, so she quickly puts her sunglass on and stares straight ahead, back into a daze look.

      The days seemed stretched out after the memorial. I wish this was a story and I could end it simply by having Officer Moody awake from the dead and live his life, but if it were that easy, life would be too good, we wouldn’t grow and learn from it.           Nothing or anyone made me question life more then Officer Bradley Moody’s death, I gained perspective. I still have dreams of this memorial, so beautiful and yet unbearably sad. We could say that every Peace officer memorial is sad and depressing but truly it’s just a reminder that we are all vulnerable. I truly began to question life after Moody’s death.

      They say we leave this world the same way we came in it, naked and alone, so if we do leave with nothing then what is the measure of life, is it defined by the people we choose to love, or is life simple measure by our accomplishments ?

      The answer is simple.