By 
On September 30, 2000, I woke up on my first day as a 32-year-old widow.
When I opened my eyes, all I felt was excruciating emotional pain and sheer terror. Then there was a knock at my door.
“I can enter?” my sister-in-law asked me.
“Yes.”
“How was the night?” she asked.
“Brutal.”
He sat on the edge of my bed. “What I can do?”
“You could do poached eggs,” I told him. “They were John’s favorites.”
“You got it.”
Two of my brothers were waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. One of them said good morning.
I smiled. “Good morning.”
The other asked me how I was.
“I’d love a coffee,” I told him.
Then I walked over to the dining room window and looked at our mountain ash. The bright red berries stood out against the yellow leaves and blue sky. It was a beautiful image.
My brother passed me a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” I said, turning to him. “I’m glad it’s a sunny day.”
He looked at me and said, “You’re going to be fine, aren’t you?”
I managed to crack a smile. “If someday”.
Then I went back upstairs and took a shower, sobbing uncontrollably as the warm water brought the pain to the surface. When I got out of the shower, I noticed my pack of birth control pills on the counter, and the reality of my new life hit me like a freight train: John and I were never going to be parents.
And let’s just say it was a long time before I was able to see much beauty in the world again… I mean, Really See it and appreciate the gift that the present moment can hold.
John was a police officer who had succumbed to brain injuries after a preventable fall in an unsafe workplace. He had been investigating a report of a break-in at a warehouse and went through an unmarked drop ceiling. There was no safety rail to warn you of danger. the call turned out to be a false alarm; there was no intruder in the building.
Shortly after his death, members of his class of police recruits started the John Petropoulos Memorial Fund, a charity that educates the public on why and how to ensure their workplace is safe for all the worldincluding emergency services that may have to attend the premise.
As chairman of the board, I’ve been active with the Fund for the past 15 years, helping with everything from fundraising and record keeping to giving presentations on workplace safety and interviewing employees. media.
In honor of the 15th anniversary of John’s death in September 2015, I returned to my home province for the annual Police and Law Enforcement Memorial Day ceremony. After the service, I did a radio interview about the Fund’s 29-Day Safety Challenge, which is an annual public education campaign that raises awareness of workplace safety issues.
The interviewer asked me how me I was doing.
“Excellent, thanks,” I said. And I was serious.
I went on to tell him about how I had been at the fallen officers memorial service the day before and that I had honestly felt…good.
In fact, it had been more than fine. I had sneaked out the back of the family tent at the beginning of the service, to take some photos of all the officers from the different services, walking down the hill to the service.
Anyway, in the radio interview I heard myself say right there on the air: “But the truth is that I don’t think would do I’d be fine if it weren’t for the work being done through the John’s Memorial Fund.”
And since I had expressed it in public, I thought I’d better take a few moments to personally reflect on it!
There is the old saying that time heals all wounds. But I know myself and I knew John…and I can safely say that he would. No feel as I feel today: happy again, at peace with his death Y able to appreciate beauty at a memorial service, if I hadn’t gone the way I did, working with John’s Fund to help raise awareness of workplace safety.
My experience over the last fifteen years has taught me that time alone cannot heal; is what we do in that time that matters.
But of course WHAT we choose to do is very personal and unique to each individual and circumstance. And perhaps the only way to know if our path is healthy is to check our hearts and souls from time to time… and there’s nothing like the anniversary of the death of a loved one to do just that.