By Sergeant Sean Fuerstenberg
I’m in my 28th year on the job, 17 of those as a sergeant. I’m staring down retirement, and I’m not expecting a parade. I’ll likely get the popular cake and coffee send-off, and then it’s done. And that’s OK. Cake and coffee are how it should be, because not every department or municipality can give extravagant goodbyes due to ever-tightening budgets. What I am expecting, because I’ve seen it over and over again, is to be forgotten. Quickly.
I’ve watched it happen to good people, respected people, officers who gave everything, who bled for their agency, who mentored generations of cops. Not one of them got the long memory they expected. Six months out, their names rarely come up. A year later, it’s like they were never there. That’s the truth no one tells you when you’re gearing up to walk away. The silence is real, and no one is immune to it.
There’s a common saying that gets passed around: “Forty-five minutes out the door and you don’t matter anymore.” I don’t know who created that quote, but whoever it was really nailed it.
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Your rank doesn’t matter, neither do your awards
Let’s get this part out of the way. I’ve been decorated. Commendations, letters, plaques, you name it. I’ve led big operations, handled ugly calls, backed my trusted teammates through the worst shifts of their careers. But that doesn’t buy you anything when you leave. No special place in the memory of the department. No eternal gratitude.
I’ve seen chiefs fade into complete obscurity. I’ve seen lieutenants, K9 handlers and SWAT team leaders, men and women who were cornerstones of their departments, go utterly silent after their last shift. The job keeps moving. It doesn’t look back. If you’re thinking your rank or reputation makes you different, hear this now. It doesn’t. No one is the exception.
The fade comes quicker than you think
One week, you’re the go-to person for your squad. You’ve got every radio channel running through your ears. Your phone is lighting up with calls. You’re briefing, coaching, leading. The next week, you’re out. And the quiet hits like a punch. The text threads you were part of continue without you. Your name stops being mentioned at shift change. The guys and gals you trained are busy training someone else. You swing by the station six months later, and someone is drinking out of your old coffee cup and parking in your spot. And no one is doing anything wrong. It’s just the reality of the job. The show must go on, and it does.
I’ve watched good cops spiral
This part no one warns you about. You think you’ll just enjoy life, maybe sleep in, fish more, and take care of the house. But then you realize this. You’re no longer relevant in the way you once were. That realization has wrecked more than a few retirees I knew. Guys who had plans. Guys who had it all figured out. But when the calls stopped and the structure disappeared, so did their sense of relevance. Some spiraled into depression. Others numbed it with alcohol. Some couldn’t take the silence and begged for part-time gigs just to feel useful again.
These weren’t weak people. These were strong, capable, respected cops. But they weren’t ready for what happens when the job no longer has a place for them.
I’m not waiting around to be remembered
Here’s the hardest pill to swallow. That heartfelt thank you that you think is coming, the one that says, “You made a difference,” might not show up the way you expect. And if it does, it’ll likely be a quick handshake at a meeting and a certificate that ends up in a drawer. But that’s OK. I’m not measuring the worth of my career by who circles back months later to check in. I’m not waiting for closure to come from anyone else.
The truth is, the job keeps going. The world I walked away from is still turning, and the people still in it are focused on surviving their own grind. I’ve made peace with that. I’m not bitter. I’m realistic. I’m choosing to accept it now on my own terms rather than be caught off guard later. Because I didn’t do this job for applause. I did it because it mattered. And that’s enough.
So here’s what I’m doing instead
I’m preparing. Not just with my pension and benefits but emotionally. I’m reconnecting with people who never cared about my badge, just me. I’m finding purpose outside of patrol cars, radios and court subpoenas. I’m getting used to being just a man again, not “Sergeant So-and-So.” I’m not angry. I’m not bitter. I just don’t want to be caught off guard like so many I’ve watched before me.
Final word to the next one out the door
If you’re nearing retirement and thinking, “They’ll remember me,” pause. Really pause. Because the truth is, they probably won’t. That doesn’t mean your career didn’t matter. It just means the job doesn’t work that way. It never has. I’ve seen it more and more. People walk away convinced they’ll be remembered forever. But the truth hits fast. The machine keeps moving. The job goes on. It always does.
While you’re in it, give it everything you’ve got. Show up. Serve with heart. Mentor those coming up behind you. Lead well, even when no one is watching. But when it’s time to leave, do it with pride and let go of the idea that the job will follow you. It won’t. That’s not failure. It’s just how the profession works. The world keeps turning. The calls keep coming. Someone else will answer the radio.
So when the time comes, take a deep breath. Close that locker one last time. Walk out knowing this. You gave what you had. And that’s enough. Let the job go. It’s already letting go of you.
Tactical takeaway
Retirement isn’t the end of your story — it’s the test of whether you’ve built a life beyond the badge.
How are you preparing yourself — not just financially but personally — for the day the radio goes silent? Share below.
Police1 readers respondAs a retired 30-year USAF veteran (law enforcement) and retired 10-year municipal police officer, my experiences are similar. With my military service, I was fortunate enough to have attended the TAP services. The Transition Assistance Program is offered to military members preparing to retire and, although too short in duration (one week) when I retired in 2010, it has its merits in preparing members for the transition to civilian life. It’s doubtful municipal agencies have it in the budget to send an officer away for the program, but an in-house transition assistance program may be more useful than a gold-plated watch or framed service pistol. Finally, any transition away from a lifetime of service — where it’s normal to feel you’re owed some level of gratitude — the reality is, whether military or law enforcement, you are replaceable, and the department will move on without you.I retired in January 2025, and this is never more true. I truly believe police officers and all first responders need to be included in a state or federal insurance program, such as veterans with the VA. First responders encounter hundreds, if not thousands, of traumatic events. You can stack bodies like cordwood that we have seen in our careers. I learned to deal with life outside of law enforcement because I purposely had friends who weren’t cops and didn’t hang out with them outside of work. I’m still in touch with some, but I always made my family first.This is a great word and encouragement to share among fellow officers. As a chaplain in law enforcement, this is an area where I wish more intentional conversations and preparations toward thriving after retirement would occur. Thankfully, people are starting to give voice to this reality of “life after committed service,” and I pray that it will continue to gain more traction. Thank you for sharing your journey.This hits home for me. I was planning to go next fall and, due to a number of factors, did my last tour two weeks ago. I have been planning my retirement since the day I came on — 31 years and two weeks before my final tour. No idea what the next chapter will look like. It was a good run, but I too am looking forward to the sequel. For the moment, the silence is somewhat deafening.Article is spot on. I call this being part of the cycle of life!I am a chief of police and have been in the career field for 33 years now. I am starting to wind down and considering retirement. This article says it all, and it is factual. I have already seen the light turn in different directions and understand that it is just the nature of the job. Thank you to whoever wrote this for sharing. It truly hits home.I prepared from day one. At the end of shift, I left the badge and job behind and went home to be “me” to friends and family. I kept my circle of friends outside the job. Distance between work and life. Best advice I ever received: “Don’t let the job be your life — let the job pay for your life.”So true. You miss the camaraderie and your phone ringing with someone asking a question.I did 34 years at several agencies. Retired in 2010. I do hear frequently from fellow retirees with whom I worked, and some still working. Took a while, but the retired life can be great if you let it.I agree with the article 100%. The only other thing that I’ve experienced is dreaming about work — good or bad — all the time, and I’ve been retired three years. Still dealing with some of the issues that were discussed in the article. Excellent article.Important to have something to do. I’m blessed to have little grandsons and a church family.OMG, every word your soul is 💯percent true. I’ve said those same words to people but never put them down on paper. I always said they should prepare us for what’s to come after the job. Great read, thank you.I left the job with 30 years and 4 months. My advice is to have a plan in place to replace the badge. Have another job lined up if that is what you want. Plan to travel, go places, do things that you never could do because of the job. Turn that hobby into a new passion. For me, it was my leather work. My leather work became my passion. You will survive retirement just like you survived everything else the job threw at you. Just go out and find your passion.Simply disconnect. No big party — just retire with your family. I saved five days of leave and went on vacation with my family. Stay in touch with your true PD friends, but simply disconnect and pack up your PD career in the closet and move forward. Retirement has been awesome.There is much truth to this story. I’m a retired K9 handler who had 31 years of dedicated service. You have to not only have a financial plan for retirement but a personal plan. I do miss the folks I worked around, but not the job. I got back into running by joining some run clubs and started rucking. I still have a 12-year-old Malinois who keeps me busy with walks as well. Please, just don’t lay around and do nothing. Do things that are enjoyable to you that the job didn’t allow you time to do.A great piece. I retired from the business three years ago and share many of the same feelings. It’s just so sad to watch some of our brothers and sisters experience so many problems as they adjust to the next chapter of their lives. Enjoy your retirement, Sean.Law enforcement was in my blood; many of my family members were in it. It’s a tough career with many ups and downs, but also very rewarding. Looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing and would do it all over again if I could.
About the author
Sergeant Sean Fuerstenberg is a 28-year veteran of law enforcement and currently serves as a police sergeant with the Grafton (Wisconsin) Police Department. He holds a bachelor’s degree from the University of Wisconsin–Oshkosh and is a 2023 graduate of Northwestern University’s School of Police Staff and Command (Class 540). He has served in patrol and multiple supervisory roles, including Field Training Supervisor, K9 Coordinator/Supervisor and Department PIO. He has also been a certified DAAT and Professional Communications Instructor, a use of force reviewer, a constitutional law instructor at the college level, and was honored as Officer of the Year for his county in 2016.
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