After everyone had settled back in, the chief of detectives stood up. "Every day, in every city around the world, the worst of human nature is exposed to our children. A cop isn't just your father, your mother, your brother, or your sister; they are not just your husband, your wife, your son or your daughter. A cop is a faceless, nameless entity that the citizens of any city call when in need. In effect, they are our saviors, the incarnations of supermen and women. Every cop, from the green rookie on his first ride along to the most seasoned detective working the impossible case, wakes each morning to face a job that'll never end.
"Every day we put ourselves at risk to protect the innocent and to protect our brothers and sisters in uniform. Each and everyone of us desire the luxury of dying at a ripe old age, surrounded by those that we love and those who love us. Unfortunately that isn't always the case. The man lying before us died doing a job that he both loved and hated.
"It's said that it takes a special breed of cop to work the cases that can be found in the Special Victims Unit case files. Many detectives and beat cops, seasoned by personal experience on the job, have left the force or just the squad due to the nature of their victims. But this man here, willingly, was able to shoulder the burden and duty required of him by the very nature of the perpetrators committing the most heinous crimes human nature could conceive of"
The chief looked from the casket and faced the assembled teary-eyed mourners. "Here lies the earthly remains of a true hero, one none here shall soon forget. May he forever be with us in spirit and in our dreams." As the chief spoke, the crowd absentmindedly nodded their heads. "Manhattan, New York, Special Victims Unit code one-four-three; signifies the loss of life in the-line-of-duty. Today, we ring out that code for Detective ........" Loud sobs rippled through the mourners as the deceased name was spoken aloud the first time in two days.
The wind played through her hair as she stared at the casket six feet beneath the ground. "Did you know him well?"
His soft voice startled her from her thoughts. "Yes, he was my best friend. You know, he never treated me like I was a lowly beat cop or anything. I was always an equal in his eyes, few detectives treat you like that." Sniffling, "I wasn't some girl encroaching on the boys' territory. I was one of the boys." She smiled warmly at him, "how did you know him?"
He wanted to say that he was the widowed lover, he wanted to. Instead, "I was his partner."
"Funny, you're a lot cuter then he'd said you were." She said with a sly smile, "he'd been so happy these couple of years with you." He stared at her speechless, unable to form a single thought. Turning to the grave, she let the white rose bud fall from her hands. "Goodbye Munchkin."
Their arms linked together on common ground, the pair slowly walked away from the grave. Their voices mingled together as stories were shared and the grave diggers sighed as they began their labor; filling the grave.