We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever. The goal is to create something that will.
—Chuck Palahniuk, author of “Fight Club”
Twenty years ago—on September 29th, 2000—I was working as a civilian with a police service in Canada. I was a report processor in the Records department; I took incident reports from police officers over the phone.
“John’s fallen,” my supervisor said to me when I arrived for work that morning. “You need to call his Inspector.”
Perhaps a broken arm or leg, I thought to myself.
Nope.
“John’s hit his head,” his Inspector said over the phone. “We’re on our way to pick you up.”
It felt like the air in the room suddenly got sucked out. The day went downhill from there. Within hours, John would be declared legally brain-dead. I spent the day with him in the ICU, comforting him as best I could, as his body was prepared for organ transplant.
So how did John end up in the ICU?
Before I get to that, let me share a little story about the day John got the call from the recruiting department of the Calgary Police Service. He wasn’t home when the call came in (this was before cell phones), so they left the message on our answering machine. When he heard the news that he had been asked to join the service, he was so excited he dropped to the floor and rolled around on his back, laughing and kicking his feet in the air.
Never in the twelve years we were together had I ever seen this type of excited reaction from him (he was usually one cool cucumber). But in that moment, he let his happiness show…becoming a police officer for the Calgary Police Service had been his dream. It had taken him eight years to achieve it.
From John, I learned the perseverance, persistence, and patience necessary to achieve goals.
John loved being a police officer. It truly was his passion…and he was very good at it. In four short years, he accomplished a great deal on the job. John also enjoyed golfing. But I think the hobby he enjoyed most was watching TV (Monday Night Football, Seinfeld, Law & Order, The Simpsons). He loved going for beers with his buddies. He loved his family and his Mom’s homemade pizza. And he loved hanging out with me and our dog, Sable.
So how did he end up the ICU?
He had been investigating a break and enter complaint at a warehouse. He was searching the mezzanine level when he stepped through an unmarked false ceiling, fell nine feet into the lunchroom below and hit the back of his head. There was no safety railing to warn him of the danger. The alarm turned out be false; there was no intruder in the building.
He was 32. We both were.
To say I was devastated is an understatement. I lost my husband, best friend, and soulmate that day…all because of a missing safety railing. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone in questioning the fact that his fall could have easily been prevented.
After his death, several of John’s recruit classmates set up the John Petropoulos Memorial Fund (JPMF) and raised money through the sale of memorial pins to officers. They asked me if, when I was feeling up to it, would I like to help them decide what to do with money. I said yes. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Twenty years later, the JPMF (a registered charity) is still going strong. We raise public awareness about why and how people can make their workplaces and the roads safer for everyone, including first responders. Over the past two decades, the JPMF has produced eight 30-second public service announcements that have aired on TV and on-line over 2 million times. The 10-minute safety video, Put Yourself in Our Boots, has been viewed on-line and in safety presentations (at schools, businesses and conferences) thousands of times.
I can’t believe nearly twenty years have passed since John’s death. The time has flown by. I rarely find myself wondering about the person John would be today or what he would be doing, had he lived. Instead, I ask myself what the 32-year old John would say, if he could pop back for a visit and see the person I have become and what the JPMF has accomplished in his memory. I think it’s safe to say that John would be beyond proud of us…and happy that I’m happy again.
Then he’d lie down on the couch, turn on the TV and watch a rerun of his favourite show.
So what was it that John created that will live forever?
A life that matters. By following his heart and overcoming the challenges and obstacles to achieve his dream of becoming a police officer, he taught me—and many others—what it means, and what it takes, to accomplish what we are here to accomplish. For when we do that, the legacy we leave behind, in the lives of those we love, truly can move mountains.
It’s a strange time to be the widow of a police officer.
It is a very strange time to be the widow of a police officer. It must be an extremely difficult time to be married to a living police officer. And I cannot even imagine what it must be like to be an actual police officer these days. The world has changed a great deal over the past six months and police departments across North America are under intense scrutiny…for good reason. Some horrific events have taken place.
But as the widow of a police officer who cared deeply about making the world a better place—and gave his life while trying to do so—I believe the vast majority of police officers are good, kind, caring, decent people who are trying to do their very best to enforce the law and make the world a safer place for all of us.
I have personally been on the receiving end of an awful lot of love and support from the police community—John’s police family—for the past two decades. Without their love and support, I’m not sure I would have made it this far.
The time for significant change in society has come. But I think we need to work together to bring about that change…versus pitting groups of people against each other.
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