By Tori Hatfield
Tori’s father, John Hatfield,works with the Dallas County Sheriff’s Department.

“I am a cop’s daughter.” Sometimes I wake up to a kiss on the forehead at three in the morning because my dad has been called in to work.

Sometimes I hear his leather boots hit the floor a lot later than he would like.

Sometimes I hear the shower running because he is drenching sweat from the long 12 hour day he just completed.

I hear the gruesome stories about the terrible wreck that he had to work.

I see the bags under his eyes as he comes home even more tired than he left.

I sense the frustration in his voice when he realizes someone he came to know and love was killed or hurt and he has to find the strength to work that case.

I feel the pain he encounters some days when he misses events but “duty calls.”

I hear the inevitable, “No, you can’t go there!” way more than I would like to. “I am a cop’s daughter.”

All of these things are an everyday occurrence when you are a cop’s daughter.

In a sense, you get used to these things and see them as a way of life.

But nothing will prepare you for hearing someone tell you a cop was shot and killed.

Nothing will prepare you for hearing over the (way too loud) scanner, “Man down.”

Sometimes being a cop’s daughter can be entirely too scary. “I am a cop’s daughter.”

There can be some heartaches but the blessings outweigh those completely.

There are few things greater than receiving an e-mail from someone you have never met just to tell you they appreciate your dad and the work he does.

There are few things greater than going to town to eat dinner and hearing someone genuinely thank your dad for the effort he puts into making the county a safer place to live.

There are few things greater than knowing if you need someone you have at least a handful of deputies that will stop what they are doing to help you in any capacity.

There are few things greater than coming home to a deputy in the yard just because they wanted to chat.

However, there is nothing greater than being able to stand up and say with a huge smile on my face, “I am a proud cop’s daughter!”