The sky was a lazy blue, the snow sparkled like diamond chips, and the 10 a.m. air was cold enough to hurt, but on a spring morning that came disguised as winter, 1,000 people with moist eyes and tightly drawn lips dueled with the far greater pain of trying to say farewell to a good cop - and a better man - way before they should have had to.

"The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away," Dennis Gorton, Aurora police chaplain, said at the Friday funeral of officer Doug Byrne at Heritage Christian Center.

"But sometimes I don't understand why the Lord takes away," he added softly.

It wasn't just that Byrne's death cost Aurora a dedicated cop, who, said friend and fellow officer Gary Rivale, "lived by the motto, 'duty, honor and integrity.' " It was also that the 37-year- old native son with the man- child smirk and the goofy sense of humor was, as another friend put it, "the most compassionate, even-tempered and respected man I have ever known."

Byrne died early Monday after he was thrown from his patrol car, which crashed near the 16000 block of East Sixth Avenue.

At the time, he was responding to a call to help Sedrick Niblet, who had suffered a seizure and later died. About 100 people gathered Friday night for a vigil in memory of Niblet.

A small parade of speakers, led by Gov. Bill Ritter and Aurora Police Chief Daniel Oates, spoke at Byrne's service, most invoking the word hero. They told of the time in 2003 when Byrne, then a Glendale cop, responded to a fire at an apartment complex and was so cool under pressure during the evacuation that he received the department's prestigious Medal of Valor.

But a call didn't have to be on a grand scale for Byrne's sense of duty to kick into overdrive.

Standing in front of the room, Aurora Deputy Chief Terry Jones - a neighbor of the Byrne family from the time Doug was a boy - cited the words of Don -Byrne, the dead officer's father: "If you were ever in a situation and had to dial 911, you would want Doug on your doorstep."

Not that an emergency was the only reason you'd want him near.

"Doug could brighten any room," said Sgt. John Quinn, a friend of Byrne's from the Glendale police. "You were instantly in a better mood when he walked in."

Byrne was the kind of free spirit who dusted your desk phone with fingerprint powder and honey, stuffed your locker with Styrofoam or daubed your toothbrush with pepper spray, Quinn said.

During remarks where words frequently gave way to tears, Quinn insisted, "Doug got it. He knew a sense of humor was the best way to combat the pressure."

It was Jones who walked the room through Byrne's life. He traced the arc of the younger brother who was both a joy and an absolute pain to his sister, Sharon; the varsity athlete at Gateway High School; the proud veteran of Desert Storm who stayed Marine- tough and Marine-loyal forever; the cop who "was absolutely passionate about police work."

At one point, Jones spoke of how a single degree of temperature is the difference between hot water and boiling water, "which creates steam, which moves things."

Jones looked down at the flag-draped casket and said, "Doug was like that one degree of difference. He moved things. He moved people."

Just as sad was the aura of déjà vu that hung in the air. Cops came from Fort Collins, Colorado Springs, Dacono and Erie to join the columns from Aurora. Officers filled the pews, a strip of black mourning tape across their badges. They snapped salutes and tried not to cry as a lone bagpipe brayed. They had done all of this six months ago at the funeral of another comrade, Detective Mike Thomas, shot dead in broad daylight.

Like Thomas, Byrne was a cop you couldn't help but like. A cop who could be so thoughtful that even some he arrested thanked the department for his courtesy.

Learning of Byrne's death, one such man wrote, "I guess God needed a good police officer in heaven."

Why God needed one so soon was a question no one could answer. But more than one person may have thought that at least now when a 911 call rang in heaven, Doug -Byrne would be the guy you'd want to see on the doorstep of the Pearly Gates.

meadowj@RockyMountainNews.com or 303-954-2606