May 5: Never a day of celebration again

Are you ...

It was the first two words of a three-word phrase I typed one year ago. Early to work that morning I saw something come across my Facebook feed alerting me to the incident of a police officer down in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. I didn’t type OK and instead placed a phone call because I couldn’t wait for a response. I never got one.

People around the country today will be celebrating Cinco de Mayo. I won’t. Hell, I’ve been in mourning for the past 365 days. May 5, 2015, will never be a celebration for me ever again, for that’s the day a worthless drug addict snuck a gun out of his pocket just after midnight in a quiet suburban neighborhood and murdered my friend.

Get over it, some will say; and I’d like to if it were just that easy. I hope each of you has or gets to experience the type of friendship me and my friends have. We were a wolf pack; we’re still a wolf pack, but alpha male is down. I hope you have experienced or get to experience friendship so deep that they become family. I hope you get to indulge in the experiences and opportunities this provided. The laughter, the shoulder to lean on, the advice, the escape from everyday life. I pray, also, that yours isn’t taken from you by a societal menace.

In honor of Greg, I’m recommitting myself. I hope you’ll join me. I’m recommitting myself to friendship and family. I’d like to say his death made me better with that. It should have, but I’m sad to admit I haven’t lived up to my own expectation. To be present, to do more, to live more. Call your friends today and tell them you love them. Listen to them. Go visit or hang out. Get away. Be there for your sons and daughters. Be ever present in their lives. Enjoy being with them. Hold your wife’s or husband’s hand a little longer and a little tighter. Don’t let a day go by without kissing them, hugging them, listening to them and telling them how much love you have for them.

If Greg’s death taught me anything it is that tomorrow may never come. I’d give anything for another boys’ day weekend, a golf outing, a hike, a bear hug or to hear his signature laugh. So many times he called or texted and my phone went unanswered. That’s what’s hardest to accept, is that I didn’t do more when I had the chance.

I’m also recommitting to the cause of law enforcement and the perilous danger this country faces as a society with the utter disregard now shown to the brave men and women behind the badge. A staggering 48 other families face the same harsh reality, of an officer slained by gun fire, all of us have dealt with since 05/05/2015. Thank a cop. Buy them a meal or a coffee when they are in line behind you. Go about helping spread the good word rather than the sickening rhetoric this country continues to spread like a damned disease.

I take great solace in seeing how strong his wife Lindy has been, then in that moment and every day since. I can only imagine the suffering that takes place inside her world. But, she’s tougher than me. I see his son, Dylon, and the man he’s becoming and the smile on his face with the adventures he has with family and the community he has around him. Facebook is great therapy in that regard. They’ve all wrapped their arms around him in the absence of Dad and ensured he won’t grow up alone. Big D and Greg’s daughter, Gemma, are the flames that his candle lit.

Country musician Cole Swindell released a song last year in honor of his dad titled YOU SHOULD BE HERE. I cry to it often now in remembrance of my friend, Greg Moore, and wish he could be here. He wasn’t OK then. I’m not sure I’m OK now.

Everything’s just right; yeah, except for one thing.

“Death changes everything. Time changes nothing. I still miss the sound of your voice, the wisdom in your advice, the stories of your life and just being in your presence. So no, time changes nothing. I miss you just as much today as I did the day you died. I just miss you.”

•••

Kevin Neuendorf is director of media and public relations for USA Shooting in Colorado Springs, Colo. Email: kevin.neuendorf@usashooting.org