So what do we do? Mourning bands can give us a united front and remind us when tragedy strikes, but they can also be a harsh reminder of the amount of pain we all feel in an overwhelming way. I can't put a blue light on the porch because mine is blue every day and always will be.
Show those who don't know us who we are. We aren't robots or clone troopers cut from a mold. We're people. Individuals. We have passions and loves and so many similarities with the people we serve that they may never take the time to know about. But that should never dissuade us.
I knew Mark Stas, but not well. I had seen him here and there at work, but I was never privileged to call him my friend. We were work acquaintances, and we saw each other in passing, however infrequently. In 2018, though, being work acquaintances with someone in law enforcement gives you a measure of trust; at least enough to be Facebook friends. While Facebook is definitely a double-edged sword, it gave me a gift in my friendship with Mark.
I got to see Mark propose and get married. I was able to see a happy man and loving husband as he honeymooned, fished, and spent time with friends, both work friends and others I didn't know.
Mark and I shared a love and a passion, as I spend all the time I can on the water chasing fish. He was one of dozens of my co-workers I haven't yet taken the opportunity to fish with, and now I can't. I wish that I could have shared some of these moments with him, but the least I can do is share them with anyone reading this post.
Warrior. Hero. Sheepdog. Yes, absolutely.
Never ever forget, though, that this man was an incredible individual.
Husband. Son. Friend. Fisherman.
RIP, Stas.
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