Like many couples, Kelly Glossip, 43, and Dennis Engelhard, 49, regularly attended church. They argued over making large purchases like whether to buy a new car or new furniture. They slept better at night together. They liked to just hold each other, standing in the kitchen of the house they shared for five years in rural Robertsville, Mo.
And like many couples, they had their own Christmas traditions.
But Christmas Day 2009, Glossip answered the phone, and a normal, shared life went to pieces.
His partner of nearly 15 years, Dennis Engelhard, was dead.
A Missouri State Highway Patrol corporal, Engelhard was helping a driver at the side of Interstate 44 north of Eureka, Mo., when another driver hit an icy patch, ran off the road and hit him. He was pronounced dead within the hour.
The Highway Patrol news release listed Engelhard as single.
“We were one person, then half of me died,” he said.
This is his story:
Kelly Glossip leans on the back of his Kia Sorento late at night in his garage in rural Robertsville, Mo. Glossip often finds himself resting against his car while he smokes a cigarette, thinking of the life he shared with Engelhard.
Kelly listens to Missouri Gov. Jay Nixon speak during the Missouri Law Enforcement Memorial Service on May 1 at the Missouri Capitol in Jefferson City, Mo. Glossip attended to honor Engelhard and other Missouri officers killed in the line of duty. Glossip and his 17-year-old son were the only family members that attended the service. Yet, neither were recognized in the memorial book.
Kelly sits on the edge of his bed after he woke up a few minutes before 4 a.m. He has a tough time sleeping in the bed the couple shared. "It's too lonely sleeping in that bedroom. It reminds me too much of Dennis," he said.
Kelly sleeps on a new couch he purchased after Dennis death. Because of the difficulties sleeping in his bedroom, he often falls asleep sitting upright on the couch. He bought new furniture for the living room because everything reminded him of Dennis. "For the longest time, I couldn’t even stand in the living room. Then I got that changed," he said.
T.J. Hampton wipes a tear from Kelly's eye after Kelly explained all the pain he's been going through since the death. Hampton has been a supportive friend throughout much of the couples relationship. That night, he invited Kelly out to Rehab, a gay bar in St. Louis. It was the first time Kelly had gone out since 2005.
Kelly hugs provost Mike Kinman after a service at the Christ Church Cathedral, a gay-friendly Episcopalian church in downtown St. Louis. Kelly and Dennis were active members of the church. Because of relationships like theirs, Kinman has become a proponent of same-sex marriage. "When they were together, their relationship had an obvious tenderness. It was wonderful being around them," he said. "They were very loving and caring people."
Kelly takes a bouquet of flowers out of the trunk of his car. He bought them to place next to a memorial he created by the side of his home, which he made because Dennis' ashes were at the church, more than an hour drive away. Kelly wanted something he could spend time with regularly and not spend so much time driving to.
Kelly places his hands on the side of the bridge where Dennis was killed on Christmas Day 2009. Dennis was helping an accident off Interstate 44 north of Eureka, Mo., when a car hit an icy patch, ran off the road and hit him. Kelly placed flowers away from highway view because Dennis used to say they were a distraction to drivers. "I wouldn’t want anyone to ever go through what I had to go through," he said.
All images are © 2010 Charles Ludeke and may not be used without written permission from the photographer.