There are moments in life that remain etched behind your eyelids, echoing in your ears.
March 3 is my dad’s birthday; it has always been a day to celebrate a great man in my life. Seven years ago, it was a day that we spent glued to our radios and televisions, scared and prayerful. It became a day intangibly woven with celebration and pain in my heart.
It’s hard to believe it’s been seven years already since Mayerthorpe. Four fallen RCMP members, lost to this world. A sacrifice that hid in the shadows of my deepest fears for all my childhood.
Words never work the way I want them to for this. So instead, as I do every year, I let my tears fall in thanks for the men and women who keep us safe, even when our thanks can’t keep them safe.