I'm married to a cop.

About a week or two ago, one of my husband's brothers in blue was tragically shot and killed while responding to a domestic dispute.  To say it's been a rough few weeks around here would be an understatement.  I've spent nights without sleep and mornings wondering why he hasn't made it home yet and freaking out if he doesn't answer the phone when I call.  It's a scary thing, seeing another police officer's wife lose her husband while he is out protecting and serving the very people that shoot at him.  These things never use to bother me.

People sometimes tell me that they couldn't do what I do- live with that specter. But I love my husband and he loves being a police officer. It's what he does. I don't want to change him- he's good at his job and those rare occasions when he gets to truly help someone he's reminded why he does it. When he tells me those stories he positively shines.  It is what he was meant to do.  However, every night for a fleeting moment just after he kisses me goodnight there lingers the the shadow of the prospect of getting that phone call. I expect that other officer's wives feel the same way when they see their husbands walk out the door.  We have a ritual every night before he leaves which includes me telling him to "be safe".  I've not gone a single day without telling him this since he started policing.

I don't think anyone can possibly understand what it's like being married to a police officer unless you actually are.  It's not that I think that I do anything special just by being married to my husband, but it also takes a strong woman to be selfless and hold back those tears every time you kiss him goodnight and tell him to "be safe". I'm happy with my life and I think I have it pretty good. As long as I never get that call.