Yesterday was my hubs birthday, he turned 42. Yes, nearly 7 years younger than me – I know, it’s criminal. Chris gets his birthday off work every year so this year I decided to take off with him. We spent the day being mostly lazy but did manage to get his birthday shopping done.
We left around 11ish and headed up Nicholasville Road to Fayette Mall. When we got just past Catnip Hill Road, near the boot store, traffic came to a complete standstill. As we sat there waiting for cars to start moving, I couldn’t help but think about the young man who lost his life a few weeks ago just a few feet from where our car was sitting. For some reason that part of Nicholasville Road has claimed the lives of far too many. I was soon jilted back to reality when my impatient husband decided we should turn around and go Harrodsburg Road. So, I did a U turn and we turned onto Catnip Hill and drove over to Harrodsburg Road. We drove along normally until we reached Southland Christian Church, then traffic stopped again. This time we could see the holdup. Police officers had traffic stopped in all directions allowing cars to turn into the church for the funeral of Officer Bryan Durman. Officer Durman was the victim of a hit and run, killed in the line of duty. As we sat there, watching one police cruiser after another file into the parking lot of Southland, my mind went to the mother of the fallen officer. At a mere 27 years of age Officer Durman was a veteran of the armed services; he stood up for and served his country. After leaving the service he became a police officer, standing up for and even giving his life to serve his community. But before he was a man, deserving of the honor that was bestowed on him yesterday, he was a little boy. The baby boy of a mother who loves him. A mother who excitedly awaited his arrival, rather through birth or adoption. A mother who was up late nights for feedings. A mother who thought surely hers was the most beautiful baby ever born. A mother who threw her arms open to him when he fell and scrapped his knee. A mother who’s love could kiss away any boo-boo and make the world right again. A mother who worried about him when he got his driver’s license. A mother who prayed for her boy as he left his own country to fight its battle on foreign soil. A mother who watched the news every night, praying that she wouldn’t hear of an officer injured. A mother who’s worst nightmare came true. A mother who’s world will never, ever be right again. A mother whose heart I wish I didn’t understand.
Traffic finally started moving and we went on our way. We didn’t really talk much about what we had seen, I think Chris knew I couldn’t handle it. We went to the mall, did our shopping and headed home. Then I went to the cemetery. I planted tulip bulbs back in the fall and they bloomed beautifully this spring, but they were in need of attention and with all the rain I hadn’t had a chance to take care of them. Chris had a doctor’s appointment (nothing serious) so I went by myself. I worked for a while at my mom’s grave, then Christy’s. After I was finished there I went down to Mom & Pop’s graves (my dad’s parents). When I was finished there I stood up to walk down to Granny & Granddaddy’s grave when I saw a hearse coming up the drive of the cemetery, another funeral procession. The small pavilion where they do the “graveside” services is very near to Granny and Granddaddy’s graves so I couldn’t go down there to work, it would have been too disrespectful. So I just stood there at Mom and Pop’s graveside for the entire service. I watched as all of the cars drove around, parked and everyone got out. I stood there as they unloaded from the hearse the casket of someone I didn’t know. I looked at every face to see if I knew anyone, I did not. I watched as all the people in attendance gathered around the casket, I watched as they cried. I heard every word that was spoken, I cried for the loss of a life I never knew. I cried for the loss of my child, my sweet Christy. As I stood there I could see Main Street, cars zipping up and down as usual. I could turn my head to the right and see people in the park at Lake Mingo. Time was at a standstill for those gathered around the casket, but the rest of the world was still moving. How does that happen? How does the rest of the world continue when your world has suddenly and horribly come to an abrupt halt? Finally, the funeral was over and everyone began to leave. I went to work on my grandparents graves, when I finished I left. Then, life went back to normal for me too, as normal as it gets these days.
Julie
