HEART OF A FIGHTER This story is about a special friend of mine. As you read you will most likely notice quickly that I have left out the name of my friend. I do this for a purpose. My friend is so very special and dear to me. They will know who they are they read this. Just as with my other letters about my dear friends, I have such special memories of my friend. I remember when I met my friend about 8 ½ years ago. His voice was booming, his laughter was contagious and his heart was kind. I liked my friend immediately. He has a way of putting people at ease. I was a “rookie” officer, a female in a man’s world and if the truth be known now, I was scared to death. I had a small son to raise alone. Could I do this job, would I be able to keep this job, will I fit in with this department. Will I get hurt, killed? Who will raise my son, who will be there for him? These questions terrified me because I could not answer them. For those who know me well, you know how unadventuresome I am. I was determined to prove to myself and to those who doubted me that I could be a Police Officer, and I could be a good one! I wanted my son to be proud of me. He had no father to speak of, so I was again determined to be both to him. I was going to be strong and soft. I was so scared but more so I was so determined. So back to my friend. I worked patrol for a year. My god that was a hard year. I missed my little boy tremendously. The hours. But wait the hours. In the beginning I told the department I could not leave my son alone at night to work midnight shift. I had no sitter, and he was too young, even at 11yrs. Our house is old, and he was not going to suffer because I wanted to be a cop. My friend helped work out a deal that I would not have to work a midnight shift. After a year my friend put his name on the line, literally. He made some calls and accomplished the unheard of. I was to be the other DARE officer, within a year of working as an officer. My friend truly believed in me. He has argued a thousand words in my favor over the years. My friend has bought my lunch when I was too embarrassed to say I was broke, my friend has made me laugh when I was the maddest (and I have been fighting mad over the years), my friend has let me cry when my little boy caused me grief, he has put on black socks, the ugliest yellow shorts, and a white tee-shirt and jumped up and down on his hotel bed while we watched movies, just to make me laugh. God, I laughed!! Note: we were in at training and there were other friends there too..for the record, oh and the coor’s lite. It has not always been laughter and jokes, we have argued over the years, and I would sink with sadness when the anger would subside. He is my friend, he matters to me I would think to myself. He is a good man, a good husband, a good son and a good friend. He has a strong heart. Does he make mistakes, yes, does he cuss, yep, does he get angry, you bet. Does he always strive to do what he truly believes is right, absolutely. I mentioned my fear of something happening to me during the course of my job. Policemen get killed – children lose a parent. My son is grown now, he still needs me, but like that of a 12yrs little boy. I wrote a letter years ago, I put it away. I told my friend in the event of my death to “get the foot locker” well my friend thinks cause I have my journals in the foot locker..and I do..ohhh now that’s some reading… but actually, the letter inside asked my friend to watch over the most precious thing I have ever had in my life. The one thing I can say “I did and did well” to please watch over my little boy. I know my friend would have taken my pray to heart and he would have watched my son until his dying day. By the grace of God, my son is grown and I am still here. I trust my friend, I love him like a brother, I hurt for him when he hurts, I am angry for/with him when he is angry. I believe my friend feels the same way. I know even to this day, that my friend would be there for me, if I needed him badly enough, he would stop everything and walk to help me. He would even stop work, to come put my air conditioner in the window! He calls me kiddo, he makes me feel necessary and needed even when others around me do not. My friend and I are going through a difficult time with things around us. Yet, when I can no longer understand why, or control my temper or just need to be a girl and cry. I have my friend. He has me.I respect him because he has a heart of a fighter. I love my friend as I love my own brother. My friend, my confidant, my co-worker and sometimes my hero, GREG ARRINGTON. Love ya brother.