MOC-Jan-17: mrs2a50

MOC Day 17: Username

Dawn Inskip: Artistry, The Journey, Artful Imagination
MPM: Foundation
Nancie Rowe Janitz: Brush, hearts

Journaling reads:
“whatcom, two adam five zero”
“two adam five zero, go ahead”

for fourteen years i was a police wife. every day i watched him leave, understanding the risks yet hoping for the best. he’s been scratched, punched, bitten, spit on. he’s had dislocated shoulders, torn ligaments, neck injuries, back injuries, hearing loss. he’s told fathers/children/wives that their daughter/mother/husband won’t be coming home. he’s seen and heard things that no one should see or hear happen to another person. he has images in his mind that will never go away. he’s buried a friend and co-worker. he’s formed permanent bonds with his fellow officers. he’s stood silently as strangers mocked him and called him names. he’s been faced with life or death decisions, sometimes his life, sometimes a stranger’s. sometimes he heard “thank you” but mostly he heard nothing at all. his intelligence and integrity have been questioned daily. i’ve spent sleepless nights waiting for him to come home, listening for the assurance that he’s safe for one more day. i’ve spent major holidays in the passenger seat of a patrol car. i’ve seen him slowly lose faith in humanity. spending your days surrounded by nothing but negative will do that to a person.

he’s been retired for twelve years now. i haven’t heard him say “two adam five zero, go ahead” for a long time, although i still hear it in my head. the emotions still run deep. i am overflowing with pride in the career he chose, and chose to do well, despite all of the struggles it brought. and i am eternally grateful that retirement brought him home safely. he’s still an officer in so many ways, and I’m still his wife. so while he may no longer technically be 2a50, it’s still in him, and i will forever be mrs2a50. proudly.