May 022011
 

343 have been on my heart and my mind all day; as I worked, as I cooked, as I watched the incessant news.

343 who will never again hug their spouses, their mothers.

343 who won’t ever tuck their kids in at night; some of whom never met those children.

343 who had no idea what was going to unfold that day when they went to work, to do their job, not to be a part of history or be brave and heroic and be the stuff of legends.

343 who live in our family’s heart and minds everyday, but especially on days like today.

343 who lived their lives like this:

“Firemen are going to get killed. When they join the department they face that fact. When a man becomes a fireman his greatest act of bravery has been accomplished. What he does after that is all in the line of work. They were not thinking of getting killed when they went where death lurked. They went there to put the fire out, and got killed. Firefighters do not regard themselves as heroes because they do what the business requires.”
-Chief Edward F. Croker, Firefighter Chief of Department, FDNY ((1899-1911), 1865-1951)

I won’t pretend to have the answers. I don’t. I won’t tell you how to feel; I don’t even know how I feel about what happened then and what has happened now. I do know that senseless hatred caused the death of 343 firefighters who were part our family. I know that eight years and one day ago, Bush proclaimed that the mission was accomplished… and the man of my dreams was able to come home and begin a life with me. I’ve been a military wife. I am a firefighter’s wife. I don’t have the answers.

But I will always remember.

[Though I don't have the answers, I encourage you to read Morgan's piece about all of this. I nodded. She said much of what I think, what I believe. I think, perhaps, she just made her upcoming-BlogHer-hug even bigger because of this piece. She's fantastic, even in the not-so-trivial stuff.]

Jan 232011
 

I hate reporting bad news. It’s not fun. There’s so much bad news in the world on a daily, minute-to-minute basis. But this morning I have good news.

Firefighter Mike Urban’s helmet has been returned to his widow.

I hadn’t yet pulled up any news page to see if there was any further news on the story. Instead, someone who works at the local news station in Framingham took time to comment on my post and let me know that it had been returned. Turns out that he’s also a firefighter. I told you that there is a family in the fire service; we all care for one another.

I read the article and, of course, got a little weepy.

Her husband’s helmet had protected him – at least from physical objects – and “Now, hopefully, it will protect me the rest of my life,” Urban told the cameras. “I can’t hold him anymore, but I can hold onto the helmet.”

I said much the same on Friday. My heart is so relieved that she now has his helmet. The article went on to talk about the Fire Chief, Lance Benjamino, used the return of the helmet to teach his son that some things in life are priceless. And it’s true.

I find it incredibly interesting that the award money wasn’t used. An “anonymous tipster” called in to say that it was behind the station in a backpack (that was also stolen with the helmet) on Friday evening. The fact that the money wasn’t used makes me wonder. Did the thief return the helmet, feeling guilty after all the news coverage? Did the thief’s significant other or mom or grandpa do it? Or was it someone else entirely that tracked it down? It’s interesting. Interest aside, I’m just glad it is home.

I hope that Maureen Urban and her daughters — now in their 20′s — can begin to work through their grief and healing and the messy art of losing someone you love so dearly. It touched me when the article mentioned that Urban’s daughters used to pose in his helmet when they came to the fire station.

A Spin on a T-ball Helmet

I think we all have a few (or more) photos like those in our albums.