Teresa Kondek is a mother of five, writer, and an advocate for law enforcement. Teresa became a widow on December 21, 2014 when her husband, Officer Charles Kondek, Jr., was violently killed in the line of duty. After her loss, Teresa began working tirelessly with local, state, and elected officials to raise awareness and provide support for law enforcement families struggling with loss. While publicly sharing her grief to help others, Teresa became part of the C.O.P.S. (Concerns of Police Survivors) Organization where she joined thousands of survivors nationwide trying to rebuild their lives. In 2016 she completed the Florida State University Certified Public Management program following her seventeen years serving the Pasco County Clerk and Comptroller’s Office as an Operations Supervisor. In 2018 she completed the Victim Services Practitioner Designation program from the Florida Crime Prevention Training Institute through the Office of Attorney General. Teresa is honored to support and honor those left behind, retired, and still serving.
Writing is my outlet. It's been a great way to get myself through grief. I'm honored that it's shared with so many people who feel the same or just needed to read something similar to their own struggles.
Links:
Daughters of a Murdered Officer
From a widow of a murdered police officer, I want you to know something about my daughters. Charlie and I raised five children. Two of them are beautiful, smart girls—Holly and Aleena.
Growing up, my girls witnessed the way their father treated me. He was affectionate, gentle, and giving…but most of all, he always made sure I knew how much I was respected and loved. My daughters had their father’s attention and affection every day of their lives, up until the day he was killed in the line of duty. He never passed up an opportunity to just listen or play along with whatever shenanigans they planned. He was the first man they fell in love with and they will always miss him. He showed them the way they should be treated and gave them a sense of security.
Being the daughter of a law enforcement officer taught them to be tough. They learned how to ignore the negativity their father’s career attracted. They had to avoid places and people that had their own opinions about law enforcement officers, and they accepted that because not everyone was meant to be an officer. But their father was, and it was his calling in life. Charlie was a great officer who loved to help people, and he was so respected in the community.
Unfortunately, after losing the most important man in their life, sitting through a funeral staring at a casket draped with an American flag, riding in a procession looking at hundreds of strangers holding signs, and speaking to the cop-killing criminal face to face during Charlie’s murder trial, they focus on things in life that you may not. Things like “What if I don’t get a tomorrow?” or “Is this what my dad would want for me?” So they tend to be a little more sentimental about things in life. Don’t mistake that for ignorance or anything else but an appreciation for being able to get up and live another day. My daughters were princesses to a man who is no longer here, and that will never be far from their mind.
With that said, before you date a fallen officer’s daughter, my daughter, I think it’s only fair to tell you what’s always on my mind as the only parent they have left. Don’t ever think the presence of a male is missing in their life. Charlie may be gone but they have something huge in their life—it’s called a blue family. It’s an amazing family of strangers that pass this unexplainable bond from one generation to another without words. It’s a family and bond that I too will depend on when I’m no longer here to protect them.
Here’s the part that gives me peace and the part you’ll see if you chose to date my daughter. When Charlie was killed, they gained a nation full of uncles and aunts who stepped forward to fill in for their father in spaces that I couldn’t. They will always have their six. When my daughters hurt, they hurt…and so do I. So, basically, when you date a fallen officer’s daughter, you date them too. It’s their honor to protect the children of their fallen brother as their own, and me as his widow. Just keep that in mind when you look at her.
My daughters were taught to be respectful and honest. I expect the same from you.
Oh, and one more thing she was told by her father: she should always feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Always.
And if dating ever came to marriage, and for one of my daughters it did (cover photo), her father and I want this for you and our daughter. We want her to be the first thing you think about when you wake up. We want her to be the last one you talk to before you fall asleep. When bad things happen, we want her to be the one you confide in. When good things happen, we want her to be the first person you want to share it with. We want you to make her laugh when she wants to cry and never let her forget how important she is.
And because she is so familiar with loss, be the place she wants to be when she misses her father. Let her cry and have bad days. Just remember: she’d love the opportunity to call him and get the advice he used to give or be comforted just by the sound of his voice—that isn’t an option for her anymore and some days it’s absolutely heartbreaking to witness. I won’t need to remind you of that after the first time you see those days yourself.
For me, I just need you to be the man her father would be proud of. A man with whom he would be willing to share his daughter’s honor. A daughter that you can hug because he is no longer able to. Maybe hug her a little tighter for her father—just like I do.
Just remember, she loves a little deeper and she appreciates things in life that really matter. If you can do that, you’ll see how beautiful life can really be with her, even after so much loss.
-Their Mother
https://opslens.com/daughters-of-a-murdered-police-officer/
(https://www.opslens.com/2018/11/30/daughters-of-a-murdered-police-officer)
See This Man?
For those of you that scroll over stories about murdered officers or have something negative to say, this is for you.
See how happy this man looks? His name was Charlie. He was happy just to breathe. He was grateful to wake up and put his feet on the floor. He used to say how blessed he felt to have a wife and children that he couldn’t wait to come home to. He had a great sense of humor and made everything fun. He loved his country and he was a proud American. He loved fall and the changing colors of the trees and cool weather. He loved Christmas and how it made people forgive each other and give more than any other time of year. He loved taking his family to Tennessee every year, to hike and breathe mountain air, and he really enjoyed the people there. He loved cruises and taught his children about other countries and how lucky we were to live with so much freedom. He…loved….LIFE!
I know this because somehow God decided I deserved to be his wife and the mother of his children. He let me witness what an honest, loyal, happy man was like to have by my side. God let me feel the security and calmness that only a man like that can give.
God gave me the life of a queen when I married Charlie, and I will never ever live that kind of life again. He let me witness what a father should be and how devoted a man could be to his wife and babies. And by the way, he LOVED being a husband and father. He loved it more than anything else in the world. We know this because for some reason, he reminded us all the time. His life was so happy and FULL.
This man chose to serve the community with the hopes of making it a safer place to live. He just wanted to be an officer. He knew the pay was low, the risk was high, and weekends and holidays were almost never a day off. He didn’t “sign up to die,” as some people claim. He signed up to be a protector in the community who would be held to a higher standard than you and I – even off duty. He signed up knowing his demeanor and conduct would always be subject to judgment; even more than others. He signed up knowing all of this because making a difference and having a safer place to live meant more, and he was willing to risk his life to make it happen.
Despite the names he was called, or how many times he was punched, kicked, spit on, cursed at, and targeted, he continued to be a great officer. Never ever did he complain about the hours, missed holidays, or the way he was treated. He kept children safe and sat with them when they were taken from their abusive parents. He saw nasty accidents and held people telling them they would be okay knowing they were going to die. He knocked on doors to tell parents that their child was killed in an accident or found dead. He sat with bodies until other agencies came – sometimes wondering if they even had a family. He brought lost children home. He brought teens home that were hanging out in places they shouldn’t have been. He walked women to their car at night when it wasn’t safe to be alone. He picked up animals that were injured and brought them to places that could help. These are just a few things I learned in his twenty-three years of service, so God only knows the things he witnessed but never shared.
He continued to strap on a gun and vest and leave home knowing it could be the last time. Well, the last time came December 21, 2014. He took a noise complaint call thinking it would be quick, so he could assist with another call involving a fight. Instead, he died just a few minutes later. He was shot, backed over, and pulled forward. He died with his brothers in blue fighting to keep him alive. For a short time, he knew he was going to die. I owe those men more than I could ever pay them for working so hard on my husband that night. I owe them for holding his hand and talking to him as he struggled to take his last breath. Breath that he was so thankful for the morning before.
So, the next time you make a comment about an officer or see their picture in the news after they’re killed, I want you to think about Charlie and all the other officers who were killed. I want you to think about the families, think about me and our five children he left behind that will NEVER be the same no matter how many years pass. I want you to think of the brothers and sisters in blue that witness them die. I want you to think of how they feel responding to the next call without the one they lost, or when they pass the same place their brother or sister in blue was killed. I promise you, they NEVER forget. There are bad people in every profession, in every culture, in every walk of life.
When it comes to an officer, you’d be surprised how many assume they are bad and readily dismiss the fact that under their uniform, they are just a normal human being – a husband, wife, daddy, mommy, brother, sister, son, daughter.
A human being that meant something to someone and had a family too. A human being that didn’t get to wake up, put his feet on the floor, or hug his children and wife before he died. A human being who selflessly gave his or her life to protect the lives of strangers like you – and had probably done so at least once in his or her career. A human being like Charlie. Show a little respect, it’s the best thing you could do for a fallen officer’s family. A family like mine.
Teresa Kondek, proud widow Officer Charles Kondek, Jr., #285
EOW 12/21/2014
NYPD/Tarpon Springs Police Dept., FL
https://opslens.com/see-this-man/
Dear Future Officer
Dear Future Police Officer,
I want to share some things with you before you start your journey as a police officer. I’m sharing this because I am a proud widow of a fallen hero, and because my son recently started his journey as an officer honoring his father. I was asked how I felt about that, compelling me to sit back and really think about it. My husband Charlie and I taught our children to find a career that makes them happy and proud, and to never settle in life with “just a job.” So, who was I to question him? Besides, it’s in his blood.
Charlie always wanted to be a police officer. He began his career with the NYPD in 1991, working midnight shifts on foot in the Washington Heights area. In 1997, he joined the Tarpon Springs, Florida police department where he served almost eighteen years before he was killed in the line of duty on December 21, 2014. Charlie was less than three years from retiring; he was only 45.
So, here are some things I want you to remember:
Remember that you will forever be an officer, both in and out of uniform. You will be expected to be an example of a perfect citizen every minute of the day. People will either look up to you or judge you. As Charlie would say, “You’re basically like a dentist—no one wants to know you until they need you.”
You are going to lose friends—a lot of them. Don’t worry, the ones you have yet to meet will support your new career. Hang on to those.
There’s no doubt your new journey will be a challenge, so use it to be a better person. When you have a chance to make a difference out there, do it.
Always be proud of what you do and what you represent, but don’t be arrogant. Find a way to stay humble because that’s what people will remember the most.
Don’t lose your sense of urgency or let the repetitive calls change you. Find a way to keep your motivation.
Your presence will control a lot of situations. Pay attention to that. Oh, and hands…NEVER let their hands leave your sight.
It’s a thankless job, but you already know that. It’s not respected by the public the way it used to be. You will be hated by most but respected by the rest, and you will always be on display. Lunch, dinner, and breaks will be a privilege. You’ll learn to eat cold leftovers, and that’s if there is time.
Be careful with trust and never let your guard down. Listen to your gut. When you are faced with darkness, don’t ever hesitate to do what is right.
Don’t let anything cloud your judgment because, as you know, you only have seconds to make a life-altering decision. Survival is making it home at the end of every shift.
You will be a peacekeeper. This will become second-nature to you —in and out of uniform— so use it carefully. Understand that you will not be able to solve the problems of the world, and you will lose sometimes, but that’s okay if you’ve done your best.
Don’t take work home with you. Find a way to unwind on your way home. Conversely, when it’s time to put on that uniform, find a way to get into “LEO” mode. Charlie liked to listen to AC/DC on his way to work and country music on the way home. It’s a balance you need to find because you and your family will depend on that.
You will be a counselor. People will expect you to fix problems in minutes that took them years to create. Learn how to listen and talk to people. It could save your life and maybe theirs.
You will be expected to be a doctor. A life, including your own, may depend on your training, so know it well.
Don’t make room for regret, and don’t EVER get lazy and think you can fix things later because…you may not have a “later.”
Learn the meaning of integrity by doing the right thing, even when no one else is around. You’ll never lose sleep that way.
Always remember your sworn oath and all that it means. Don’t put off praying before every shift; it may be the day you need one.
Here’s something good that only we will fully understand. You will have an enormous “blue” family. You will work with men and women who will give their life to save yours, but they will also be the first one to make fun of you every shift. Keep that sense of humor, you’ll need it more than you know. Charlie was known for his laugh and funny comments, especially during read-off.
Take the time to appreciate your bond with your new brothers and sisters, and don’t take it for granted. If the day ever comes and you don’t make it home, your own family will need them more than anyone. Your blue family will proudly protect yours as their own. I remember being upset and talking to an officer who never met Charlie, telling him how hard it was going to be on birthdays and other milestones that their father would miss. He said, “When your husband’s watch ended, your children became ours, and we will stand beside you until our watch ends.” I had no idea how right and truthful that would be until I lived it. Still, today, we are surrounded by LEO's and their families. We have a sense of security and we have thousands to thank for that. Once you are sworn in, you too will be part of that family, and it’s amazing.
This one is tough but so important: go to a fallen officer’s funeral and listen to the last call. Look at the uniforms from numerous agencies. Watch the honor guard as they fight back tears to keep a strong face. Look around at the hurt in their faces. They feel, honor, and respect the loss. All of this for a person most of them have never met. They know that it could be them at any time, any day. I want you to experience that because I promise it’s life-changing, and you will have a different respect for your new family and your career. When you have the time to learn about a fallen family, do it. It means the world to them when someone wants to hear about their hero.
Here’s another challenge: finding a wife who understands an officer’s life will be a struggle. Trust me, this woman is a different kind of strong. She’ll be home alone most weekends, nights, holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries. Your wife will need to know that she shares a man that most hate. She will need to know how to help you cope with bad days. I’ve seen the stress and face of a man who has seen things a human should never see…awful things that would shatter most on the inside. She will need to be strong enough to handle a home, children, and most of the responsibilities of your family. She will learn to sleep with the phone and will fall asleep some nights waiting for you to call back. Encourage her to be a part of a LEO organization because most wives will not understand her fears or her lifestyle. Finding friends will be hard for her. She will need a blue family relationship because being an officer’s wife can be overwhelming and scary. She will need to understand that you may not come home when your shift ends and that you are willing to give your life to protect a family other than your own. She will need to learn not to watch the news because seeing “an officer involved shooting/accident” on the news will make her feel a numbness that won’t go away until you call. If she’s the right one for you, she will be proud of you, and she will know how brave you truly are.
Charlie had no idea how powerful his presence was, or how he made a difference without ever trying. His life and the way he treated people with respect throughout his career, including those he arrested, set an example for so many to follow. I was so proud to be his wife.
This was Charlie’s rule…NEVER, ever leave home angry. Never leave without saying you love her. Say you’re sorry before you leave, even when it’s not your fault. Talk to her when things get too heavy. Take the time to tell her your wishes or, better yet, write it down. It may seem unnecessary now, but it could prevent issues later. Trust me on that one.
We are heartbroken without Charlie, but he left an amazing legacy behind. He was happy, honest, never judgmental, and so unselfish. He never asked for anything because he was a giver. If there’s anything that has given us comfort after losing him, it’s knowing how much he loved us and how much he was loved.
From a proud widow of a fallen police officer who was and will always remain a hero, I want to thank you for being brave and choosing this career. I wish you the absolute best. I pray that you stay safe and that God guides you in the right direction. I pray that you always use your best judgment. Enjoy the good things in life and don’t hold grudges. Laugh and enjoy life as much as you can because as Charlie said, “Life is all about living, having fun, and doing as much as you can before you’re too old.”
Stay safe out there and make us proud!
Teresa Kondek,
Proud LEO widow of
Officer Charles R. Kondek, Jr., #285
Tarpon Springs Police Dept., Florida – EOW 12/21/14
https://opslens.com/leo-widows-words-of-wisdom-for-future-cops/
https://www.opslens.com/2018/08/24/leo-widows-words-of-wisdom-for-future-cops/
LEO Widowhood
It’s not the most popular club to be in, and I certainly didn’t ask for a membership to it, but here I am. I can’t opt out no matter how bad I want to, so I’m just…here. The first year was absolute shock, panic, and denial. My life didn’t seem like it was mine, and I had no control at all. I felt numb all the time. I was making split-second decisions for everything with no time to consider anything. I was overwhelmed with texts, email, letters, cards, visits, and phone calls, and I was having a hard time processing it all. I wasn’t interested in anything about my new life. Nothing at all.
Just like being sick, it all felt worse at night. I sat outside at all hours of the night just crying and begging for this nightmare to be a mistake. I sat in my closet and read cards and letters Charlie wrote me and, many nights, cried myself to sleep on the floor.
I had to adjust to a life with no privacy because what was once my private little life was now plastered all over the media and Internet. Those who didn’t support law enforcement were quick to post horrible things online without knowing any of the details. Things my kids and I would eventually see. My husband’s face was all over the news, online, and in the newspaper constantly.
Death became a constant thought. I panicked just thinking about leaving my kids. I prepaid for my own funeral and did as much as I could so that my kids never had to worry, question, and stress the way I did when Charlie was killed.
Every single part of my life was affected: from the way I cooked, the things I watched on TV, the laundry, where I sat in the living room, the places I went, the people I talked to, and how people looked at me. Death changed everything about me.
I no longer belonged in places I did before. Being around married couples just reminded me of what I lost. I was treated differently by my own friends, and for the first time in my life, I had no idea how to fix things or cope. I stopped trying at one point and gave up on being positive. I didn’t care about much at all. It wasn’t the life I planned, and it was so empty without Charlie.
I didn’t know when it was okay to talk about Charlie or when I brought him up too much. I didn’t want to leave my home, so I started isolating myself and cancelling plans. It was the only control I had left of my life. I learned how to fake a smile and convince people that everything was fine. Showers became the perfect place to cry because it helped when my eyes were swollen. Carrying tissues and wearing waterproof makeup every time I left home became my new normal.
Being in shock that long changed me. It changed the trust I once had, it changed the way I looked at people, and it changed how I looked at myself.
The second year was hard because it was the real “firsts” without him. Realizing my life would never be the same was traumatizing. It still is when I think about it for too long. I still hated the new life I was forced to live, but I pushed myself to at least try.
Everything started to sink in when the phone calls and messages slowed down. My life was a constant struggle, and I felt like a robot. I was tired of being called “strong” because I would’ve loved the opportunity to be weak, just for a little while, but life didn’t give me that choice.
I was sick all the time, and I started losing my hair. I wasn’t taking care of myself, and it was really starting to show. I was exhausted, couldn’t focus, forgot things that I knew my entire life, and just walked in circles most of the time. I didn’t know where I was going or what I should be doing. Lost seemed to be an accurate description, I guess; lost with absolutely no one to help me find my way because that was completely up to me. I prayed for direction but felt like God left me too. I really struggled with that. I had a hard time not blaming God for letting Charlie die so violently.
As time went by, people moved on, but I couldn’t. It was basically, “Sorry for your loss but go be a widow somewhere else.” That’s when it was time to get myself together or fall apart. I couldn’t expect anyone to help sort through this new life because, once again, that was all on ME.
I started feeling like I wasn’t doing enough and then felt like I did too much. Nothing helped no matter what I tried, and there weren’t too many people that understood the helpless and empty feeling I carried with me every single day. I hated that. I hated depending on people because I was never one to ask anyone for anything. That sure went out the window when Charlie was killed. I had no idea how much I would need people, even people I never met.
I was shoved into widowhood by violence, so it was hard not to be angry. Some days got better, but the bad ones knocked me on my face again…back to the day it happened. I was supposed to grow old with Charlie and never gave aging a second thought…until now.
The third year was more than frustrating. I had to fight for a lot of things than was necessary. I had to sit in Charlie’s murder trial the exact month he was supposed to be retiring. I had to once again relive that day and watch Charlie take his last breath on the dashcam video they played during trial. I had to watch my kids fall apart AGAIN.
I still had some really tough days, but not as many as the year before. I still got angry, I still cried, and I still wondered what our life would be like if he were alive. I still picked up the phone to call him when things happened or when I needed to hear him tell me things would be okay, and I still got a sinking feeling when I heard his favorite songs.
I went to all the annual memorials just like the years before, but this time I saw them as honoring Charlie, not mourning him. I was proud to stand and speak for Charlie instead of crying. I shared our story a little more and started to give back to the blue family that held us up for so long.
I could call myself a wife, widow, and surviving spouse…and sometimes I didn’t cry saying it. I felt stronger, but I still felt broken on the inside on the bad days.
I started taking care of myself and getting out of the house more. I talked more at the cemetery and did a little less crying on my knees. I found a little more balance in my life and tried new things. Some worked out, but most didn’t, and that’s okay because I tried.
I knew I needed a career change but wasn’t sure where to go or how to figure that out. I wanted to use my loss and all the struggles and challenges that came with it to hopefully help someone else with theirs. I just needed to find something that would allow me to do that.
I still have a hard time being introduced to new people without Charlie, going places without Charlie, and trying new things alone because no matter how much time goes by, I will NEVER be in the right place, I will NEVER be where I’m supposed to be or feel like I belong. Everything is different now and that’s been so incredibly HARD to figure out. I wish people knew or acknowledged that because being a widow isn’t something I ever planned for; I was forced to accept it and I still haven’t learned how to be okay with it.
Now that 2018 is here, I’m hoping to find my place. I’ve learned a lot about fighting for the right things and speaking out when I need to.
I’m still learning how to balance my old life that I miss and the new life that I still don’t like sometimes. I’ve lost more friends and witnessed the true side of people when I needed them the most. Because of that, I’m more determined to do what’s right for my family and theirs—no matter how they treat me. There are a lot of things that need to be changed for our law enforcement officers and the families they leave behind. Things I never even thought of until I became a widow.
https://opslens.com/leo-widowhood/
https://www.opslens.com/2018/08/17/leo-widowhood/