Life is Eternal

Just a short time has passed since the untimely death of Orange County Sheriff’s Office (OCSO) Detective, Michael Erickson.

As the Caylee Anthony case evolved, so did my admiration for all the men and women of the OCSO, especially for the detectives working the case.  These men and women were incredibly committed, worked so diligently to bring to justice the murderer of the beautiful child, Caylee Marie Anthony.

The OCSO Detectives on Caylee’s case were her voice.  They spoke for her then; they still do.

One of these detectives was Michael Erickson.

I remember Detective Erickson’s voice and remember how kind yet professional he seemed.  He was on the witness list for Caylee’s case, too.

Detective Erickson was a husband, father and grandfather.  He looked so young; I was surprised to learn he was a grandfather.

I know the loss of a father, too.

Soon after my father passed away, I’d lost a dear friend – she was helping me get through my father’s loss when she died. The year was 2000, and it was an immensely painful time – I was a basket case for a while.

A friend sent me a lovely poem/essay that she thought would help ease my pain and anger (I was so angry for a long time afterward).  This poem was like a light piercing through my darkness.  It reminded me of the faith that I’d been questioning, and it did ease my mind. I read all kinds of inspirational books at the time, but what I am about to share with you, helped more than any book….

This is dedicated to the family of Detective Michael Erickson – especially to Krista.

Life is Eternal

I am standing upon the seashore

A ship at my side spreads

her white sails to the morning

breeze and starts for the blue

ocean.  She is an object of

beauty and strength and I

stand and watch her until

at length she hangs

like a speck of white cloud

just where the sea and sky

come down to mingle with

each other.  Then some one

at my side says: “There!

She’s gone.”

Gone where?  Gone from

my sight – that is all.  She

is just as large in mast

and hull and spar as she

was when she left my side,

and just as able to bear her

load of living freight to the

place of destination.  Her

diminished size is in me,

not in her; and just at the

moment when some one at

my side says, “There! She’s

gone,” there are other eyes

watching her coming, and

other voices ready to take

up the glad shout, “There

she comes!”

by Henry Van Dyke