Alicia and I went to the funeral of Deputy Larry Canfield today. It's not the first officer funeral I've been to since Pierre died, but the first one for a Northern California officer. The similarities in his life and death to Pierre's were very uncanny. The accident was almost identical, including the fact that the individual who hit him was also an elderly man who never saw him. Deputy Canfield was on the force a similar time and a motor one year longer than Pierre. He loved being on a bike and I believe his wife would have never told him he couldn't do a job he loved, even if she knew she might lose him.
The turn-out of officers and civilians was incredible with the church filled to capacity. Alicia and I were in an over-flow chapel and had we been later, we would have not been able to sit down. The sight of hundreds and hundreds of officers from so many different departments is gut-wrenching and amazing at the same time. It's a sight that I feel is so deserving of a fallen officer.
Sometimes I feel like I need to go to remember what it was like for me. I wonder how his widow Michelle is holding it together and if she's had to temporarily rely on drugs this first couple of weeks just so she could manage. How did the department contact her? Who were the first people she called. Did she even cry right away or was it an hour after she sat with his body realizing he truly was gone. Did she constantly question why this happened and not be able to have anyone answer her?
I remember calling my friend Dina and telling her Pierre was gone. She didn't believe me. I just said "Yup. Dead as a door knob". Dead as a door knob? What does that mean? I wasn't crying yet.
I remember seeing his body with his arm in a cast. I asked a doctor why they had done that because he was already dead. I couldn't touch him because he wasn't there anymore, but I also remember I wasn't fond of seeing his hair shaved so close, which I had actually done for him the week before. He was all about saving money. He told me it would be grown out enough for the Collie Nationals in Boise the following week. He never got there with me. The trip I needed to make and hoped I'd die on so I could be out of my excruciating life.
I remember I kept saying to myself and anyone who was by me "I don't get it. I don't get it." We had a perfect life in an imperfect way. He was the love of my life and I believe I was his also. How could he leave now when we were just getting on with our plans and living this crazy and fun life. He was wacky, adorable, affectionate, funny, sexy. In my mind, he walked on water. I guess more than I thought. I know he'll be the first one I see when I pass over. I want to smack him and hug and kiss him all in the same breath. I miss him so much sometimes I could scream.
Michelle and her two boys will be taken care of well. She is fortunate to lose her husband in the line of duty. He will never be forgotten and there will be monuments with his name engraved on so his family for generations will remember. She will have a family in the Sheriff's Department who will treat her with the utmost of care for the rest of her life. Canfield was an officer who gave his life doing what he truly loved and that is a gift for all of us. God Bless you Deputy Canfield. Go find Pierre. He's the one with the out-of-code mustache and Del Taco Scorcho Sauce on his uniform. He'll show you the motorcycle course in Heaven! How cool is that?