Family of another slain deputy still mourns today.

When Bridget Pine heard the news Monday morning — Officer killed … no, two officers — she began to weep.

“I just started to cry,” she said. “I’m just heartbroken for the families. Knowing what I know, knowing what they are going through, just brings it all back.”

“It” was the day three years ago when her husband was killed in the line of duty.

Orange County Deputy Scott Pine, a 34-year-old father of three small children, was responding to a call about a string of car burglaries when he encountered the thief, who shot Pine three times before turning the gun on himself.

Much like this week, Pine’s death in February of 2014 dominated the news. But the spotlight always fades. Cameras shift. Headlines change. The grief, however, endures. During the Pine family’s evening prayers, 4-year-old Maddox sometimes still asks God to send his Daddy back home.

“He doesn’t understand,” his mother said. “I tell him Daddy’s not coming home. And as a parent, it is so tough when there’s nothing you can do except hold them and love them and tell them their daddy is a hero.”

Pine doesn’t blame her youngest child for not understanding.

She still doesn’t understand herself.

But trying to make sense of tragedy can be an exercise in futility and even madness. So, instead of focusing on the all the time she lost with her husband, Pine tries to remain grateful for the time she had.

“It was beautiful,” she said. “And I am so blessed for that.”

Pine doesn’t expect the families of Master Sgt. Debra Clayton and Deputy Norman Lewis to find that spirit of gratitude quickly or easily. But she said there is something she wants them to know:

“We will never forget them,” she said. “They will be remembered.”

That is important to Pine, who said one of her biggest fears was that the sacrifice of her husband — a man who left a successful banking career to answer a call for public safety — would be forgotten.

But the community made sure Deputy Pine was remembered.

A street was named in his honor.

A giant star memorializes his sacrifice at a park where Maddox and his 7-year-old brother, Ryker, and 9-year-old sister, Haley, play when they want to be “with” him.

The YMCA in Winter Garden, where the Pines live, installed a piece of exercise equipment — a knotted rope the kids can climb to see their father’s name at the top.

“The community continues to support my family,” Pine said. “It’s such an important part.”

She also channeled some of her grief into a two-year crusade to pass a law ensuring that the fam-