The morning of December 31, 2017 I picked up my phone from the nightstand. Drew was asleep next to me and knowing he was working through the night on New Years Eve I planned to let him sleep in a bit longer. I opened facebook where headline after headline read ‘5 deputies ambushed in Douglas County.’ I lay there reading each article as the news unfolded, looking for any scrap of information about what happened, trying to understand how such a horrific event could dismantle the lives of so many families. I knew that one of Drew’s former coworkers was working that shift and was hoping and praying that somehow he wasn’t on that call.
I remember hearing Drew begin to shuffle awake, and rolling over to look at him before he too reached for a phone from the side of the bed. It’s a moment that’s become burned in my memory. “Hey, before you look at the news you should know there’s been a shooting in Douglas County. Five officers are injured but they haven’t released any other information.”
As a police wife you live with the constant fear and worry trickling in the back of your mind that each day is a gift, each day he could go to work and not come home. You pray that you’ll never be on the receiving end of having a team of officers show up at your door to take you to the hospital and you cry for the families that do.
For the first three years of him working in law enforcement, it didn’t feel ‘real’. He was a reserve, working one day a week and I didn’t feel like I had the right to be worried or scared. My husband wasn’t risking his life everyday so it was fine, not a big deal. When he accepted a full time position, things changed but the realness of the danger and the job never really bothered me.
A few weeks after Drew started full time, we were invited over for a barbecue with a family of one of Drew’s former co-workers from the reserve job. He too had transitioned from reserve to full time just a few years before. I will never forget standing in their kitchen and talking to his wife. She asked how I was feeling, if I was worried about the new job. I replied with the same thing I’d said a thousand times before. “I trust that he has good training and good coworkers. He’s always a cop even when he’s not on shift and at least then he has good backup.” I laughed retelling a story about Drew running out into traffic at an accident in our neighborhood.
Little did I know how much that conversation would haunt me throughout the last twelve months. I think about it all the time. That wife was Gracie Parrish. The one police family I met. The one wife I’d really gotten to talk to.
As the rest of the morning on December 31 unfolded, Drew was agitated and unsettled. He went upstairs to play video games while I tried to clean the kitchen, keeping an eye on the news stations in the background.
When they announced one of the deputies had died and that there would be a press conference, I paced in the kitchen. I could hear the video games upstairs and knew that Drew probably didn’t want to watch whatever they were going to show. I couldn’t bring myself at that point to turn on the tv and was texting with my mom. “The name of the deputy is Zack Parrish.” she said. I remember feeling cold and typing back quickly. “No, that can’t be right. He has two babies. Two little girls.” I wrote back.
I walked up the stairs and put my hand on Drew’s back. He had headphones in and was in the middle of some group game.
“Drew, they announced the name of the deputy who died.” He looked up at me, “It’s Zack.” He pulled the headphones off and slammed his hand into the desk with emotion. Together we cried and cried. I cried at seeing Drew so upset, cried thinking about Gracie and the girls. It was a painful, life altering emotional experience. This wasn’t someone I really knew. At the time I had no idea how close Drew had been with him.
Time after that seemed to move more slowly and the wound was raw as news continued to pour out about that evening. Each time Zack’s name would appear on Facebook or on the news that cold feeling would come over my shoulders, settling into a pit in my stomach that I would carry around. Over the last year I’ve learned more about Drew and Zack’s friendship. Watched as Drew has continued to mourn for a friend. I have yet to shrug off the cold painful feeling that comes across when I see Zack’s name and I probably never will.
This year has changed me. I’ve spent a lot of time connecting with other police wives, building a community for myself of women who understand those emotions. It’s helped to hear the stories of those who have retired, the learn how families juggle scheduling and children. Really get a grasp on what it means to live this life and know that we are not alone.
I don’t fear constantly for Drew and his safety, if I did I would never sleep. I am proud of my husband and the blue family he stands beside and I pray for their safety every night.
The night of December 31, 2017 Drew went to work. Despite all the pain, all the emotion, he put his uniform on and headed out into the night to protect those who need protecting.
Through it all, that’s the lesson I’ve learned from Zack’s death. No matter how dark the night may be, or how hard the job is, there are men and women who will continue to dress out each evening and put their lives on the line for the rest of us.
Greater love has no man than this, that he who lays down his life for his friends. John 15:13
In honor of Zack’s memory you can support police families by making a donation to The Shelter Foundation. Gracie Parrish started The Shelter Foundation to guide and support LEO families. You can learn more about the Shelter Foundation and the work they are doing on their website.
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