I was going to just drop in a quick entry tonight when I noticed that there are 200 entries into this journal.  That is 200 moments that I shared of our life; 200 moments of crying, of laughing, of noting Frank’s recovery.  I want to thank all of you for sharing those moments with us.

This past Sunday we spent part of the day at a Law Enforcement family event in Woodbury.  It was nice to see all of the different LEO families, departments and exhibits, coming together in a day of celebration and remembrance.

Frank and I walked through the park with the boys, and as we came closer to the bounce houses, they of course ran off to have fun.  We joined the Wives Behind the Badge table, and met and spoke with different law enforcement families as people drifted by looking at all of the tables and games. We were surrounded by police cars, SWAT vehicles, horses, boats and firetrucks.  The boys were having a great time looking at all of the equipment on exhibit.

Soon, the mayor spoke, thanking everyone for visiting and honoring the law enforcement community, and praising those that spent endless hours putting together the event.  A moment of silence was planned for the over 270 officers that have been killed in the line of duty here in Minnesota.

After glancing around to find Frank, who was nowhere to be seen, I bowed my head and said a prayer for those families that have lost their officer, and a prayer of thanks that Frank is still with us, and able to recover a little bit each day.

I took a deep breath as the bagpipes began to play in tribute.  I thought to myself – you can honor these officers without crying this time.  You will make it.

And the firetruck, just to my right, turned on it’s siren.

And the squad next to it also turned on it’s siren.

One after another, in tribute to our fallen, siren after siren, began to call.

And at that moment, tears began to fall.  In that moment, I felt the pain in that sound, a sound that for many of us, brings a smile and pride to our hearts.  A sound that at that moment, brought remembrance, and tears.

A sound that I remember even as I write this with tears running down my face.

So many officers each day go to work to do what they were called to do – and some do not return.

For those families, the sirens mean something else… for me, it means to never forget where we have been, and what family we are part of.

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