A quick update on that July post- I wrote a private Facebook message to Jay a few weeks ago, and as of this morning he has not written back. I sure hope it's because he doesn't check FB regularly. It has to be, right? If someone came out of the blue and had possession of a very personal piece of your, uh, personal history, wouldn't you respond? Anyway, I'll let you know if I hear from him.
Today, I want to write about something horrible that happened. There's no smooth way to segue into this.
Brad Fox was a police officer in Plymouth Township, PA and the older brother of my college roommate, Jim and he was killed in the line of duty on September 13th.
The last time I "wrote" about this, it didn't go as well as I would have liked. It was a text message to Jim saying how sorry I was and that I was glad to have met Brad. Those parts were fine. But I also said something about finding peace in the memories of his brother. This was literally the morning after it happened. The wound was far too raw to be talking about memories. That's like seeing a guy get his arm chopped off and immediately wishing him luck with physical therapy.
Jim wrote me back a few days later, thanking me for the message. I'm don't think it bothered him. Jim always sees the best in people (unless they're a NY Rangers fan). But I was annoyed at myself. The news hit me pretty hard and I should have waited a few hours for the shock to wear off. I wonder if part of me thought that since I'd experienced the sudden loss of my father, I was extra-qualified to offer condolences and should do it right away. I know my intentions were good, but no two losses are the same. There's no Loss Club that you join where you automatically know how someone else feels.
Before becoming a cop, Brad was a Marine and served two tours in Iraq. When we met a few years ago, I remember thanking him for his service and saying something about how I could never do it on account of me being a complete pussy. He chuckled at my civilian guilt, but then he said something to the effect of, "It's a job, like any other." I didn't agree with him, but I really admired his outlook and his bravery. He didn't flaunt it. He wasn't one of those asshole Marines. You know the type.
To survive war, only to be victimized in his own country is disheartening to say the least. Here's the account of his death. But if there's a bright side to this tragedy, it's the incredible support that the Fox family has received. Jim told me it's been more than they ever could have expected. Here's the official Facebook page if you'd like to learn more.
