Walking through the Valley of the Shadow- Part 1

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I have been wanting to write a post for a while now about the work that I do, the work that I do with the families of the fallen.  I have received emails asking about details, wondering about the obscurity in some of the posts that I have written after I have come back from a detail.  I have pondered the words that I would write, pinching them and molding them into some sort of shape that would do justice and give honor to the names that I know too well.  Names that belong to faces that I will never see in person.  Names that roll off of the tongues of family members so easily but get caught up in the back of my throat even easier.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to write anything until this point because I have had a difficult time trying to find the words that would describe my feelings, my experiences, my thoughts poignantly. And then I was told about the book Final Salute by Jim Sheeler and that I needed to read it for a future class discussion. The book is written about US Marine casualty assistance officer, Major Steve Beck and several of the families he has assisted. I couldn’t get through the first chapter without thinking that if there were to be a book written about the work that I do, this would pretty much be the book, only insert firefighter instead of marine.

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While the book was a page turner, I had to put it down several times because I felt as if I were too close. It was hard seeing my own life and my own work mirrored in a man that was beautifully quoted throughout the pages. What I see and experience first hand is incredibly painful, only I have gotten too good at squelching and shoving down the pain after nearly 10 years. The easiest way I can describe my work is by using the same terminology as the military, 80% of my job I’m a casualty assistance officer. My job is to give a death notification when necessary, ensure that the body of the fallen firefighter is cared for with dignity and honor (and many times that means I have to help ‘dress the body’ or stand by as the funeral director makes final preparations), I arrange and orchestrate visitations and funerals (sometimes small but most of the time elaborate) and I standby and stand guard of the families with my honor guardsman that come to help me. The other part of my work goes beyond the initial week or so after the death. I also ‘counsel’ the family, provide social services to them when extra resources are needed, and file for the financial benefits. My work doesn’t end on the others side of that knock on the door. Many times I walk side by side with a family for years. Only when they decide they no longer need to hear my voice do I say goodbye.

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I would like to begin this series with several quotes from the book that I feel best describe this work that I have found myself doing and the emotions that go along with it. Unless otherwise noted, they are all quotes from Major Steve Beck.

“The curtains pull away. They come to the door. And they know. They always know. You can almost see the blood run out of their body and their heart hit the floor. It’s not the blood as much as their soul. Something sinks. I’ve never seen that except when someone dies. And I’ve seen a lot of death.”

“”They’re falling — either literally or figuratively — and you have to catch them. In this business, I can’t save his life. All I can do is catch the family while they’re falling.”

When he wants something done with precision, he’ll require his troops to get it “down to the gnat’s ass.” The problem is that sometimes, even his friends say, he’s the only one who knows where to find the gnat, never mind the ass. He swears he is not a control freak: he says that would imply he wants to tell other people how to think. He says he just knows when things are done properly. He sees his perfectionism as a plus, especially for the delicate duty that involves dealing with people who want everything yesterday and, he believes, deserve it.

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“…but the funerals, they exhaust you. It’s not the physical part. It’s just so exhausting. It makes me feel guilty for saying that . I feel a sense of loss even though I didn’t know the person. But the family members come up and they speak to you, and there’s nothing you can say. Often it’s just a handshake. The standard line is ‘It’s an honor and a privilege to do this.’ But that feels so inadequate. You want to do so much for them and you just don’t know what to do. There’s no way to convey it. There are no words in the English language….I’ll go off for a walk, have a cigarette…to keep from crying like a baby.’ Staff Sergeant Kevin Thomas

“The pain we’re feeling drives us. The pride is bigger. But the pain–you gotta eat it, you gotta live with it, you gotta take it home and cry in the dark. What else are you going to do?”

“That mother, I would suck all her pain away if I could. Every Marine would. They’d take every ounce of pain and just absorb it.”

“It bubbles up. Yeah, it bubbles up, but God helps me with it.”

“One of the things I’ve learned from all this, is that there’s a difference between believing and knowing. Before, there were some things I believed. Now, I just know.”

“To do this right, to do it properly, you have to look at these women as if they were your mother or your wife, and these men as if they were your farther or your brother. And you have to ask, ‘What would I want someone to do if it were me?”

“I actually start thinking about it the moment I wake up. It’s such an important job that I just don’t want to mess it up,” he said. “I just want it to be perfect.”  Sgt. Jeremy Kocher

“This experience has changed me in fundamental ways. I would not wish it on anyone, but at the same time I think it’s important that it happened to me. I know it’s going to have an impact on someone’s life that I’m going to meet years from now….It’s like you’ve got them in inventory. You’ll have them when you need them.”

After one burial, “all I wanted to do was play with my children,” he says. “But all I was thinking about while I was playing, was all those guys out there in harm’s way, making all that possible.”

Quotes Excerpted from FINAL SALUTE: A Story of Unfinished Lives by Jim Sheeler. Reprinted by arrangement with The Penguin Press, a member of Penguin Group (USA), Inc. Copyright (c) May, 2008.

I highly recommend that you buy the book. Stay tuned for part 2.

Sitting in a Sea of Survivors

I am here in California for the National Fallen Firefighter’s survivors conference.  This nearly week long event is put together to help the spouses, parents, siblings, and children of firefighters who have died in the line of duty network with each other, have a chance to get away, take a few classes, and just heal.  During this conference they are holding a special class to teach the fire service and the survivors how to put together response teams that will respond to a department and family that have experienced a line of duty death.  Most states have a response team, but there are several states that either do not have one or their team is still very new.  Leaders and directors of established teams were invited to come to this conference to have a chance to network with new team members as well as with the survivors.  Being the founder and the director for the Texas Line of Duty Death Task Force, I was asked to come and participate.  Of course I jumped on the chance.

I have been the presiding chaplain at the National Memorial for a couple of years, and also having lead the Task Force for nearly 10 years, I have a lot of experience working with the survivors (the loved ones and the departments).  I just fall in love with every single family and fire department that I work with.  I have learned so much from them and their experiences that it’s changed who I am and how I see the world.  My perspective on life, the fire service, even my own family has changed me.  Watching a father fall to his knees in grief or to see a mother or wife pin a photo of their loved one to their shirt will do that to you.  I figure that the more opportunities that I have to spend around these survivors, the more opportunities I will have to learn how to take care of my families better and to also learn how I can help in the effort to prevent another death from occuring.

Our meetings are being held at the Fireman’s Fund headquarters in Novato, CA.  It’s a stunning place and they take such good care of us.  This morning was our first day of events and we were greeted by a walkway leading into the building lined with Novato firefighters on both sides (they call this the wall of honor).  It was so neat to be greeted by each firefighter as I came in.  Later, they came to the conference room where the welcome ceremony was held and lined the back of the room, so they could greet anyone that they missed.  They were the nicest guys and I was impressed by their show of support.

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We had about 50 or so attendees in our class today.  I was say that most of those attendees were survivors.  I felt like I was surrounded by a mix of grief and hope and each would pop up it’s head throughout various parts of the day.  Every story is differant, every experience is devastating and yet so much compassion for new and future survivors poured out from their souls.  How they can find the strength from within to be able to go out and use their pain to try and ease someone else’s just amazes me.  I sat in a sea of survivors today and felt heartbroken and yet hopeful.  I felt sad and angry and yet empowered.  I sat in a sea of survivors today and realized that I have to do more, be better at what I do, and try harder.  After so many years of doing this work, you get into a routine of doing things a certain way.  I need to take it up a notch and make our Task Force even better.  I had to be surrounded by the emotional highs and lows of these survivors in order to get a good kick in the pants.  I think our team is fabulous but I think it can be even better.

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Let me just end this post by saying that, I love, love, love what I do.  I just hate that I have to do it.

Somber Easter Here in Houston

firemanwithax2009-03-29-1238361207 It is with deep regret, on this Easter Day, that I share with you that our Houston Fire Department lost two firefighters in the line of duty in the early morning hours.  They were fighting a house fire when somehow they became trapped and were unable to make it outside when a pull-out request was made.

Over the years, Houston has suffered the loss of many firefighters.  Today, two too many.  It scares me to think about John leaving the comforts and stability and somewhat safe confines of the airport station that he is the captain over.  He is studying for the senior captain’s test but if got promoted he would have to go outside of the fence and back out on the streets.  I told him to put the books down today.  We will revisit the studying on another day.  Today is not the day and neither is tomorrow.  I am not sure if that day will ever come but right now, these two firefighter fatalities at his own department hit too close to home.

Anytime I work a fatality, a piece of that fatality is forever engrained into my psyche.  I become just a little bit more paranoid about something happening to John.  I try not to let those fears overcome me but when the fatalities occur in our fire department, in our own backyard, I just can’t handle it as well.  Today I am afraid for his life.  HFD’s track record with LODD’s isn’t the best and I am not willing to gamble the life of my husband against their odds.

Ironically, I leave tomorrow for Maryland.  I have a two day meeting with the National Fallen Firefighter’s Foundation.  We are working on how we can save the lives of firefighters.  Ironic for sure.

I will share Easter photos when I get back.  I just can’t do it today….

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