The plastic police badges shouldn’t have been a trigger. But for my grieving daughter at the county fair, they were a heartbreaking reminder of the father she’d lost. As her sobs echoed through the crowded midway, I felt helpless – until Officer Miles knelt down beside us.
He didn’t try to fix it with words. Instead, he met her exactly where she was – coloring with her in silence as she processed her pain. That small act of presence did more than any comforting phrase could. When he promised to ask about her favorite rides next year, he gave her something precious: hope that joy could exist alongside sorrow.
Watching their connection grow over subsequent meetings – at a coffee shop, during a station tour – I saw my daughter’s relationship with her grief change. The badge that once represented loss became a symbol of connection. Officer Miles never tried to replace her father, but showed her how love continues through community and shared memories.
Now when she talks about her dad, it’s with laughter about his terrible jokes rather than tears about his absence. All because one officer took time to color with a crying child at a noisy fair.
