A Crowd of Strangers...

... thousands strong, winding along over a mile of city streets. All for one purpose. To say farewell to a man that many of them, including myself, had never seen until his picture flashed on my TV screen with dates under his name.

This morning, as Evan, Jed & I stood in front of the Manchester police department with many others, I was proud of our little state, and grateful that so many people had given up sleeping in on this Saturday, to show solidarity in the face of senseless violence.

Officer Brigg’s funeral procession started with hundreds of police motorcycles riding by the station in tribute. The line seemed to go on forever, and each time I thought it would end, more kept filing by.

There was a lull after the motorcycles. Then off in the distance a bell tolled, and bagpipe music began far down the road. The sound crept closer, and then a cruiser came into view. It’s astounding to be in a large crowd, and have it be so eerily quiet. There was a hushing sound that went down the line of observers, as parents stilled children, and already quiet conversations became non-existent.

Following the cruiser was a drum and bugle core, with bagpipers who began playing the Marine anthem. Following them was the hearse, and the car carrying Officer Brigg’s widow and two little boys. His wife was leaning forward in the backseat, desperately trying to grieve in private, while a multitude of strangers looked on, tears flowing freely down most faces.

For the next forty-five minutes, we silently watched thousands of public servants march by. There were policemen and women from towns throughout Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Vermont and Rhode Island. Hundreds of firemen, correctional officers, ambulance crews, Red Cross workers - on foot, bikes, horses, and in cars, all paying homage to one of their own.

Each group would pause in front of the station, then pass under a gigantic American flag, suspended between two fire trucks.

As I stood on the sidewalk, I wondered why I was shedding tears for someone I’d never met. But I realized, you don’t need to know someone to mourn their death. He was a person who served and loved greatly, and as such, deserved my respect. And he left behind people who will miss him, and they deserve my prayers and support.

It was surreal as the last cruiser passed. What had I just witnessed? We walked back toward the center of town, and the procession was passing our way again, on it’s way to the stadium where the service was being held. Those who marched were now passing in front of Manchester’s arena, where a circus was in town. Evan, Jed & I paused again to watch, and I heard family’s on their way to the circus hushing their excited children out of respect. I heard one mother say “They’re here to say goodbye to their friend.”

My precious nephew, who changes passions, career options, and costumes more frequently than I get my mail, said as we walked away, “I’m back into police guys.” “So am I,” said his dad. “And so am I,” thought his deeply moved aunt.