09/06/2015
Words from one of our own on our experience attending Deputy Goforth's funeral. It was an honor to attend. R.I.P Deputy Darren Goforth! We'll take it from here.
This is long, forgive me. Feel free to share, I write better than I talk.
It was still dark outside, the warmth of the dying summer season still present in the early morning air. The pack on my shoulder heavy, bearing the tools that I will need this day. The street and porch lights reflect off the toe of my boots, fresh from being polished only a few hours prior. I stand for only a short time in the predawn silence before a black sedan pulls along the curb in front of my home. My chariot for the day. I load up, call "shotgun", and pile into the car for the journey to come. This day I am going to travel from one corner to the other of the second largest state in our great nation, but I'm not alone. Today I ride with two of my brothers. Brothers not by blood or any form of affinity, but fraternal brothers. I look back at my home, as I do everyday that I leave my family to be with my fraternal family, to make sure the front door is closed and the porch light is on as we drive away. Today is different, today I linger looking at the house as we pass. Today is different because we are going to bury another one of our brothers.
We have never met this brother, but a brother he was. You see, in this profession the saying "misery loves company" might be the closest description to rationalize this fraternal family. We see so much pain and misery, sadness and tragedy, that few outside of us could ever understand. We have to trust each other, we have to care for one another, and if need be sacrifice our lives for each other. We love each other, even if we have never met. If one of us needs help the others would ride through hell to get to that one.
The ride was as usual when family gets together, news and stories. There is of course a ubiquitous pit stop at a convenience store. Talking and joking while driving we are soon joined by other brothers and sisters. Before us two vehicles and behind at least thirty and growing. Brothers and sisters from various parts of our state, never having met but on the same journey. We continue on our way, ever nearing our destination.
The alert on my phone sounds, "in one quarter of a mile, your destination will be on your right". Nearly there, the line of our family's vehicles is now well over a mile long. The roadside tells me we are close as blue ribbons are tied to every fence, they flutter in the breeze as if they are pointing the way. I look to my right and can see what we are looking for, the top of Second Baptist Church. We find the nearest place to park, a quarter mile away. There on the side of a residential street in an affluent neighborhood in Houston, Texas, we ready ourselves. I empty my pack of my duty belt, we don our dress blues and our duty rigs. The next few minutes we check each other to make sure we look as professional as possible. We stand for a moment, badges and medals glinting in the midday sun, before we start the walk. Approaching the church we find our sister that made the trip before us. There is a sea of blue, white, brown, and green, we are surrounded by our fraternal family. We number in the thousands. We file into the sanctuary I, my two brothers and our sister, find a place to stand in the back. We are approached several times and informed of overflow seating available, which we kindly refuse. My sentiment is, I'm sure, shared by others, "my fallen brother is worth standing for".
The front of the sanctuary is bathed in a blue light, however there are two things that immediately draws the eye. The first is the casket bearing our brother. It is draped with the flag of our nation, to me a symbol that the nation lost one of her guardians and that the flag itself is mourning this loss. Two of my brothers flank the casket, standing guard over our fallen. The second thing that draws your eye is a large stained glass window scene. The sun is providing the backlight for the window, which depicts a heavenly scene over a lake of fire, the same lake of fire that I and my brothers and sisters walk through everyday to safeguard our nation and provide a veil of security to our nation's people. The service is intermingled with kind words, stories, and some of the most beautiful singing that I have ever heard. We were honored to hear about the life our brother lived, how he loved this profession, and how he loved his family. Our brother was truly a great man. The preacher provided a sermon on the role that our profession plays in God's plan. The bagpipes, the bagpipes always seem to get my utter attention. Unlike most instruments it seems that you not only hear the bagpipes but you also feel them in your heart. The sermon concluded, we file outside for formation. There in the typical hot and humid afternoon Houston sun we stand in the largest formation I have ever seen. Thousands of us stand shoulder to shoulder at either attention or presenting a salute before our brother takes his last ride. The helicopter formation flying overhead in the missing man formation. In the corner of my eye I see the lone helicopter, it's rotor beats like a heart fading into the distance. The folding of the flag, the twenty one gun salute, and the playing of taps. Finally the motorcade starts off and our brother is driven away being led by other brothers, for he will not take this ride alone.
My brothers' and our sister's purpose here is done and we part ways. The ride home is much more somber, reflecting on more serious things. We get back to my home, similar to how I left it. We say our parting words and go our separate ways, all with the same thoughts. We are glad to have taken the journey. There were good moments, there were sad moments, but we went. Our journey showed that we stand for a belief, a purpose, that is bigger than us all. Since I became a Police Officer in 2006 I have lost one thousand four hundred and ninety one brothers and sisters. When one of us falls there will be others to take up our post and to carry us home.
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"
