Unfit For Duty

To what in this world are you attached?  To your health?  To your spouse or children?  To your house, car or your job?  To success?  Attachments come too easy in this life where absolutely nothing is guaranteed.   Some of us are just one diagnosis away from good health.  Our loved ones can be called Home at any time.  People get laid off unexpectedly and sometimes we flat don’t succeed.

We all have attachments though.  I’m no different.  And, in the wake of losing Aaron, my attachments grew stronger; I didn’t want lose another damn thing.   So I clung to everything - to my goal of competing in a fitness show; continuing to work out at the same gym, trying to stay on the meal plan....and then realizing I simply had to let it go.   I planned on attending my Isagenix event in August hoping to become motivated to start running my business again.  But at the 11th hour, I gifted my ticket to someone else, I  haven’t returned to ‘work‘ yet.  When people suggested I sell my house after what happened there, I adamantly disagreed.  My appraisal is scheduled for the 15th of this month.  My closing date is September 30th.  I've done my share of letting go.

But, I remained attached to my duty weapon: a model 22, Glock .40 caliber handgun, serial number MMA121.  It was my duty weapon for decades, my silent partner.  It kept me safe at work.  I slept peacefully with it on my nightstand every single night.  I completed Fire Arms Instructor school with that gun.  It flew to DC with me for Police Week, twice.  I taught my mom and dear friends how to shoot with that weapon.   But, on the morning of June 23rd, Aaron used it to take his own life.  It was impounded as evidence.  It sat in a property warehouse for weeks.  Eventually, I learned it was being released back to me.  All I had to do was go pick it up.

For weeks before this day arrived I researched having my gun refinished or dipped in order to change its appearance.  I asked for help on a closed Law Enforcement Face Book page and the response was overwhelming - countless referrals to companies that could make over my gun.  And, countless judgements of some who were shocked that I would consider retaining it.  Their opinions only strengthened my resolve to keep it.

Until one day I realized that it would still be the same gun underneath no matter its outward appearance.  My next step on this journey was the decision to have it melted down.  I’d have an artist take the metal and make a cross out of it.  I’d hang it on my wall at the cabin.  But every time I looked at it, I’d know the metal’s origin.  And, I decided I didn’t want a cross made out of the same metal that was used to take Aaron’s life.

I thought long and hard about my attachment to this weapon.  I sat down and recounted every grateful memory I had; all the times I cleaned it after successfully qualifying with it, the times it earned me an expert's shooters badge, and how it was my constant travel companion.  I vividly recalled the day I fought in a backyard of a Maryvale residence with a homicide suspect who grabbed the radio mic off my shoulder lapel and began wrapping the long cord that attached the mic to the main radio around my neck.  I immediately drew my weapon and pointed it at the suspect fully intending to shoot him and he knew it.  He dropped the radio mic and the cord lost its grip around my throat.   My gun saved my life that day.  

I couldn't help that my eyes welled up with tears when I decided I’d never pick up my duty weapon at Property like I imagined I would.  I’ll never see it again.  

I requested that my duty weapon be destroyed.   It was my loyal partner for a very long time.  Had I still been employed on the Dept, given the circumstances of what eventually occurred with the gun, the gun would have been labelled “Unfit for Duty”.  Sometimes loyalities don't last...

Sometimes your most treasured possession becomes unfit for duty.