There’s a saying I’ve always loved by Steve Jobs: “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward.” That’s when everything finally starts to make sense. After 26 years in policing, I can now see how the experiences, people and lessons have shaped the way I view retirement—not just my own, but also those of the many I’ve worked alongside.
Throughout my career, I watched hundreds of colleagues retire, leaving active service for what some jokingly call “pension land.” But it’s never just a punchline. Retirement from policing is a profound transition, and how we approach it, support it and honour it matters deeply.
One of my early wake-up calls came when I was a corporal. My husband and I hosted a Christmas party for his watch, as we often did. We invited a few retirees, including a former supervisor who had been out of the service for several years. He came to the party alone. Later in the evening, we had a quiet chat. What he said stuck with me:
“I worked for 30 years. Ran big files. Made high-level arrests. But the day you hand in your badge, it’s like you’re no longer one of them. Most cops stop caring the moment you’re out.”
It was honest. It was painful. And it was, unfortunately, often true.
Years later, as an inspector overseeing patrol, a corporal walked into my office and handed me his 1733—his retirement notice. He still had two or three years to go before his pension maximized. I asked him why he was leaving. He simply said, “I can’t keep doing this. Not the frontline work, not anymore.” He had survived a serious shooting years earlier, and the cumulative toll was undeniable.
I didn’t accept the paperwork.
Instead, I asked him to meet with his doctor and a psychologist. I gave him some administrative time off. Two weeks later, we found a better fit: long-overdue internal projects that didn’t drain his mental health.
We invest so much into recruitment and retention—why not into retirement? Why don’t we honour the final chapter with the same intentionality we give the beginning?
He made it through those final years, and on his last day, he sent me a message that I’ll never forget: “Thank you for helping me finish well—for my health, for my family and for myself.”
That moment reminded me that there are so many officers, so many stories, like his. People who are just a few years from the finish line but are silently struggling. Whether it’s trauma, chronic fatigue or the emotional weight of years in uniform, many need support. Yet, few know how to ask for it.
In the final stretch of my career, I was immersed in recruitment. My role was to build a brand-new police organization, and with that came the excitement of hiring hundreds of officers. We were laser-focused on attracting new talent and promoting all the reasons to join. However, amidst all that momentum, I noticed something: we barely talked about the people leaving.
Only two retirements occurred while I was there—a married couple who were ready to embrace world travel and the next chapter of life. But for many others, that chapter feels uncertain. The badge is gone. The identity, the community, the schedule—everything shifts. For me, even with preparation, retirement came with questions and a strange stillness. My kids were older. My schedule, once full, had gaps. My social circle was still working. Suddenly, I was on the outside looking in.
Over time, I started meeting with other retirees. Their experiences echoed the words I’d heard years ago: once you’re gone, you’re gone. There was little formal support, no real offboarding or process to ease the transition.
That got me thinking. We invest so much into recruitment and retention—why not into retirement? Why don’t we honour the final chapter with the same intentionality we give the beginning?
Imagine a structured, supportive exit process. For example:
- Health check-in: Meet with your physician to assess any lingering or developing health concerns.
- Mental health support: Start proactive sessions with a psychologist. Don’t wait until the silence becomes overwhelming.
- Financial planning: Speak with an advisor. Know your options and feel confident.
- Rebuild your network: Establish friendships and a community outside of policing.
- Plan your routine: Fill your days with purpose—whether through travel, hobbies, education or volunteering.
- Family conversations: Retirement will shift your world, but not necessarily theirs. Discuss openly about what’s ahead.
What if we made these steps not just available, but required? What if no one could submit their retirement notice until they had completed this “retirement readiness” checklist?
Policing is often described as a calling, but it deserves a thoughtful ending just like any other meaningful journey. I like to think of a policing career as a five-course meal:
- Training is the appetizer.
- Early years are the salad.
- Promotion and leadership—the main course.
- The final few years? A palate cleanser.
- Retirement? That’s the dessert.
Too often, organizations overlook the dessert, yet it’s the part that lingers. It’s the sweetness after years of sacrifice, service and challenge. It’s the moment that tells the member: you mattered, and you still do.
If you’re in a leadership role right now, I encourage you to help others end well. Celebrate their transition. Create systems that support them. Because one day, you’ll be the one connecting the dots, and you’ll be grateful for the legacy you left behind, for yourself and for others.
Jennifer Hyland served as a police officer in B.C. for over 26 years. Her career spanned three organizations: the New Westminster Police, the RCMP and the Surrey Police Service. She retired as a deputy chief in Sep. 2024 and is now working on her first book.
