Sunrise . . .

Hey buddy,
I'm sitting on my bed with my laptop just like I almost always was for our 2am phone call marathons. I keep waiting for you to call me and ask me to look something up for you. I'm waiting for the phone to ring with that ringtone I assigned to you 6 years ago and refused to change out of pure stubbornness. I wanted to call you so bad yesterday and ask about the dress uniform for the funeral, but it's your funeral. I polished the gun belt you helped me put together and hollered at me about constantly. I kept crying when I thought about it, so I think there's probably some tears on there too.
The boys cleaned up your cruiser, you would have been proud. I unloaded my magazines on my off days the other day because I swore I could hear you yelling at me about it. Someone is driving me in the procession because I know you wouldn't have wanted me behind the wheel all upset. I went to the doctor the other day when I was feeling sick; I didn't want you to think I never listened to you about anything. (And on that note, just for the record, you were right. As usual.)
You know which ones on your shift you have to keep a close eye on. Promise me you'll still look out for me, I don't know what I'm going to do with out you. I'm going to breakfast this morning with my favorite person, you know which one I'm talking about. I'll miss telling her about you, those were always great stories.
This is the hardest thing I've ever done. You were always the first person I hit the speed dial for when things were too much to bear alone. I can't understand why God would take my best friend. I know what you're saying, I can hear you. I'm not blaming God, it's just hard.
Well that's about it. "What are you doing exciting?" "Absolutely nothing." "Well why not?" I'm going to go outside in a little bit and watch the sunrise. Watch it with me please.

I love you.

End of watch . . .

It is with a broken heart that I post this. Last night my best friend/mentor/favorite deputy passed away suddenly before start of shift. I am at a loss. He was 42 years old.

I will say this. For six years, from the time I became a firefighter and eventually a deputy, he watched over me. He answered my questions and loved me unconditionally. The last words I ever spoke to him were "I love you."

God give me strength for I know I cannot do this alone. Never in a million years did I ever think a man I loved with all my heart would leave so soon. A man who will never see me get married, be promoted to patrol, turn 25 or any of the hundreds of other things we often spoke of.

I love you. Watch over your brothers and I; you would have been the person I would have turned to to get through something like this.

Please, if you are out there and feel the need say a prayer for my deputy. I know you didn't know him, but he would have loved all of you.

Rest in peace my brother, we have the watch.

BROTHERHOOD