You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
A final moment so poignant, so visceral, it brings pride to my soul, and sadness to my heart.
The funeral for officer Rafael Ramos is an unprecedented display of blue honor and police pride.
There’s an estimated 25,000 police officers. A wave of law enforcement as far as the eye can see.
It’s impressive, like a sunset kissing the horizon, creating a filament of light at the edge of the world.
This moment is so powerful, so captivating, it’s being broadcast wire to wire on CNN to a global audience.
I am watching the funeral for a murdered police officer from my couch. I am almost embarrassed it is this easy to trespass on this terribly public moment.
But the imagery has surrounded me like a blanket, comforting me, making me think, maybe every dark cloud does have a silver lining.
As I watch the visceral imagery, I can’t help but be overcome with emotions.
I am angry. I am astounded. I am impressed and proud. I am curious.
I see shiny badges covered by black tape.
I see dress blues perfectly pressed.
I see police gloves so white they look like finger angels.
The world has gathered to remember two officers executed by a mad man.
This act of purposeful barbarism divided this nation’s biggest city.
The atrocity lit a time bomb that is poised to explode.
It’s been a week of raw reaction, over reaction, tears and bursts of anger.
Two officers killed, murdered, executed.
Saturday 25,000 NYPD officers arrive in force.
The law officers stand on the street outside the Cathedral where one of the two officers is laid to rest.
The blue line of brotherhood, stretches for a mile.
It’s like a tidal wave of blue support, standing at attention, saluting a fallen brother.
It’s two days after Christmas and the nation needs to heal.
This funeral is so public, so visceral, perhaps it will allow healing to happen.
The power outside the cathedral is matched by the messages of hope inside.
This is more than a funeral. It’s a symbolic moment. It’s a gigantic band-aid on an open wound.
This service is an invitation to the city, to the nation, to each officer of the NYPD, to heal.
It’s Saturday morning.
The headline from Christ Tabernacle Church says it all: FUNERAL FOR SLAIN NYPD OFFICER UNDER WAY.
There is not an empty seat. The building is filled with prayers and tears and powerful emotions that swirl through the stained glass windows like wisps of enlightenment.
Police Commissioner William Bratton is at the lectern.
He speaks eloquently to the world, speaking of heroism and men who paid the ultimate price.
The commissioner also speaks personally to the teenage son of officer Ramos, who was gunned down a week ago today.
“Your dad was assassinated,” he says choking back emotion. “That’s a different word than murder. It speaks of the prominence of the person killed. It is symbolic. Your dad was assassinated. He represented something. He represented the men and women of the NYPD. He was the embodiment of the term, faithful until death. He represents the blue thread that holds our city together, when disorder might pull it apart. He was the best of our values. But he was your dad. He tried hard and sacrificed.”
FUNERAL FOR SLAIN OFFICER.
POLICE COMMISSIONER BRATTON REMEMBERS FALLEN COMRADE RAFAEL RAMOS
Posthumously, the commissioner promotes both officers to detective 1st grade.
It’s a powerful and healing moment.
Outside the church, the CNN reporters calls the demonstration breath-taking.
It under sells the moment. It’s like calling the resurrection a party trick.
This moment is electrified, a charged particle of life circling an angel’s halo.
I watch in awe as the camera slowly pulls back revealing a mass of police humanity.
It’s a wall of blue. It’s men and women. It’s black and white. It’s heads bowed, it’s white gloves clasped, badges wrapped in black bands. It’s stoic faces of bravery. It’s eyes shut and solemn prayers to a power higher than this moment.
The wall of officers outside is bigger than anyone can remember. It’s a swarm. It’s practically inconceivable.
Flowing down the line, of men and women, holding hands, creating a single line of unity, there is a feeling of hope. The brothers in blue are praying alongside each other, saluting alongside each other, standing at attention to create a positive energy that can only be found when the human spirit is dedicated to purpose.
But then the politics of such a magnificent moment seeps in. The reporter talks about the disrespect for the New York City Mayor who has become a lightning rod for discontent.
While the mayor addressed the families inside, officers outside turned their backs on the mayor in a display of blatant disrespect.
Within the eulogy itself, percolating alongside the remembrance, there is political turmoil.
It illustrates the storm that must be quieted, the wound that must be lanced.
A commentator outside says it best.
Even while this funeral is taking place, a protest is scheduled to take place in Brooklyn. New York City is a city of 8 million people. Getting 8 million people to act as one is impossible.
Did today initiate the healing? Or did it illustrate the divisiveness that threatens to tear a city apart?
Battle lines are drawn, only time will tell.
But at the end of the day, a 13-year-old boy has no father and no amount of words or back turning can change that.
Life’s Crazy™