January 14, 2010
Reflections 1
Tonight I spent some time with a family that I met a short seven years ago. I sat at the same dining room table in their home in which we planned their son’s funeral. Seven years ago, I watched a mother stare blankly at a baked potato that her family was trying to get her to eat, barely able to concentrate on the arrangements we were discussing. Seven years ago, his sister was so angered by the tragic circumstances of his death that those emotions were carried out onto me. I was naive at the time because I thought she was angry with me. I had only worked with the families of fallen firefighters for three years and had not yet experienced the wide range of emotions that come with unexpected and often times complicated grief. Now, sever years later, I sit at the table and laugh about experiences we are having with toddlers in the house (our child and their grandchild). Seven years later they say the pain is still there but the sting has started to fade. We can smile over their memories of him, instead of cry. Seven years later his sister makes me feel like I am one of her best friends.
Seven years ago we were talking about a full honors firefighter funeral with the flags, and the honor guard, and the last alarm, and helicopter fly-overs. Seven years later we talk about a response trailer that will bear his name to honor the sacrifice that he made for his community. Seven years ago, Charles Lance Mathew became a memory when he was taken from this life too soon. Seven years later, we are carrying his memory on in the work that we will do in the future. God, we pray there is never another firefighter to fall but if there is, we go in his name.
Seven years ago I learned more from this one family and fire department than I did from any of the previous firefighters that had gone before him. His story affected me deeply. His family was burned into my heart. The lessons that I learned from them, I have used on almost every fatality case I have worked since his death. They profoundly changed the way I work and care for the new families that have come under my watch.
On March 20, 2010, two days to the day of Lance Mathew’s death, we will be honoring him and his family at the Texas Fallen Heroes Memorial Ride & Cook-Off. His family are the honorary chairmen of the event. They will be doing a wreath laying ceremony to not only honor their son but all of our Texas fallen firefighters and EMS workers. And then the trailer that is dedicated to his memory will be unveiled and put into commission. In my wildest dreams I never would have thought I would have seen a day like this come.
There has been a lot of sweat, tears, and stress with putting this event together. Many days I begin to wonder what I have done. But tonight, as we discussed the event and the trailer with them. I was reminded once again that this isn’t about me. This isn’t even about the TX LODD Task Force. This is about the families and the departments that have lost so much. This is about giving them something back. And while I know that I will continue to stress over trying to find sponsorships, and auction items, and vendors, and cook-off teams…what it really comes down to is the family. Seven years ago they were devastated. Seven years later they are elated that Lance is being honored in such a way. That makes me want to keep pushing through and to not give up, even though there are days that I feel like I should.
Never more honored, never more blessed do I feel than when I am sitting with the family of a fallen firefighter, whether it be in the throes of grief or many years later when we can laugh openly about a memory.
Jan 15, 2010 @ 06:47:58
It’s hard to know what to say when something so sad is also so beautiful.