12/29/2025
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When I’ve been told I needed to deliver a death notification, the weight of it hit me immediately. My chest tightened, my stomach sank, and my heart skipped a beat. I knew I was about to share news that would change someone’s life forever.
When I arrive at the home, I knock on the door and take a step back. Often, I can see the family through a window, moving around their living room. Sometimes they wave or smile, trying to greet me warmly. That moment is incredibly hard because I cannot smile back. I know I am about to bring them the darkest moment of their life.
When they open the door, they usually ask, “What is wrong?” or “What happened?” I begin by confirming their name and that I am at the correct address. Once I know I have the right person, in the right place, I notice something I have seen many times before. They begin taking small steps backward, almost fading away from me. I do not think they even realize they are doing it. I think it is their body trying to create distance from a moment they know, deep down, will change everything.
Then, I deliver the most difficult words anyone could ever hear.
“It is my sad responsibility to tell you that your son has died in a crash.”
“It is my sad responsibility to tell you that your daughter has died in a crash.”
“It is my sad responsibility to tell you that your mother has died in a crash.”
“It is my sad responsibility to tell you that your father has died in a crash.”
In those moments, I often see one of three reactions.
Some collapse. They fall to the floor, crying in a way that cannot be described. I kneel beside them, and often, I cry with them.
Some go silent. They stand frozen, their faces blank as they try to process what I have said. They are lost, unsure of how to take the next step.
Some push me away. I may be told to leave or pushed back as they yell, “No. Do not say that.” But I stay, because no one should face that moment alone.
These moments stay with me. They stay with the families long after the door closes.
This season is meant for togetherness. It should never be marked by tragedy.
As we move through the holidays and toward a new year, please make safe choices. Do not drink and drive. If someone around you is too impaired to drive, step in and help.
Be safe,
Trooper Ben
