I’m still trying to wrap my
mind around this week and this day. My
mind has not wondered far from thoughts of the Tanksley family or the fire life
all week. For some reason, this LODD has
hit me harder than any other. Probably
because Chris knew him more than any other.
I do know that I’ve held Chris and the kids a little tighter. For the first time in years, I’ve woke up as
he left for the station and cried watching him drive off in the morning
darkness.
Today as we drove up to the
location of the service, I was awestruck by the lines of trucks, engines and
other apparatus from all over, lined up.
As we walked up, to see the hundreds of firefighters in their dress
blues, something they rarely wear and most often if they do, in times of
sadness. As we waited in the hall to be
seated with Scotty’s former companies, I watched the men hug, shake hands and
share stories. I saw men Chris has not
worked with in years, many from his rookie years and even Academy days. I hugged necks with men I know have been in
some tight, scary places and situations with my husband. So many, I have no clue have even taken place
and probably never will. As I watched
the family proceed into the building, I was amazed at the strength I saw on
Wendi’s face and in their children. I
know they are hurting. Horribly. I couldn’t help but wonder how would I handle
this? How would our kids handle
this? It’s hard not to put yourself in
those shoes and ask those hard questions.
As the service went on, I was humbled by the sheer numbers of those who
came to pay tribute. The silent tears
falling on the tough faces of those in uniform touched me deeply. These guys who just don’t cry, were letting
the tears fall freely. Not ashamed of
who would see. They had lost a friend, a
brother. I listened to the songs and
those speaking, knowing how much time and thought must have gone into the
planning, I wondered how she did this.
How do you bring yourself to that place to make the hard decisions. When the various chiefs gave the flag to his
family, my own tears began to fall. When
Scotty’s helmet was given to Levi, I lost it.
That precious boy, holding it close, wishing so badly he was holding his
daddy instead. It shouldn’t happen this
way. When the service ended, we lined up
outside waiting for the pipes to play and the family to follow the casket for
his last ride. I watched the pallbearers
come out, holding with love and duty the handles of the casket. Seeing his close friend, suck in air, look to
the flag and fight the tears, was my undoing. That friend is one I would want in the same
place for Chris.
The processional, all 35
miles to Dallas, was incredibly heartwarming and emotional. I was amazed to see
the incredible amount of cars stopped, flags waving and silent salutes. All for a man they did not know, yet they
recognized as a hero in his own right.
As we got closer to Rockwall, our own town, where I knew my own kids
were standing road side, I was a mess.
Silent tears streamed down my face.
To know that those I “do life with” were standing with my babies showing
their support touched me deeply. I
watched my mom from up above one of the overpasses, wave her flag and show her
love. All the way to Dallas people
stopped, stood, waved and cried.
Something I will never forget, nor do I think will they. Aside from the tragic night, this drive I
imagine had to be one of the hardest and longest for Wendi and her family. Yet, as we drove, I also thought how thankful
I was that it was a long drive, through so many communities. I hope that she felt loved and supported like
never before. Maybe even drawing
strength from it for the days to come.
The support poured out was beyond amazing. As we neared the entrance to the cemetery,
marked with the giant flag, I saw my own daddy standing across the street,
alone, hat over his heart, silent tears.
Again, my undoing.
As we parked and walked
towards the graveside, the sounds of bagpipes played. That sound that is so unique and yet so defining. I stood near my own hero today as he stood
respectfully saluting. This time, taking
him in and loving him even more for it.
More tears, more hugs, more handshakes, more stories and more laughter. All from these guys who know each other down
to the core. Hugs to wives, whom I may
not see often but we get it. And for
that, it is as if we know each other well.
I truly cannot begin to
fathom what this past week has been like.
I do know that as I read Chris’ texts Monday night and then began to
watch the news stories, all I could think of was that a fire wife’s worst
nightmare was coming true at that moment.
I’ve never put any of these things into words, let alone on paper, but
feel I want to now. The phone ringing in
the middle of the night, a knock on the door when you’re least expecting it,
Chris not getting home right when he should in the mornings- all can be heart
stopping in our world. I’ll be honest
and say I don’t think about it all the time. There are many times, even I as a
wife, forget the dangers of the everyday calls.
Yet never too deep in my mind is the fact that I think about the
unthinkable, what would I do, what would my plan be. Unfortunately, it’s part of my life, it has
to be. It is part of my reality. However, I have never lost sight of the pride
I feel in my firefighter or in being his wife.
I may sport my DFD gear too often for some or use the word hero when
referring to my husband, but I will never apologize for that. For today, I was reminded of the immense
brotherhood these firefighters have. As
we rode with another fire couple, watching the two men joke and share stories,
this was played out for me again and again.
As I, the wife would make a comment; the other fireman would confirm
things I said just as if he were the wife.
I know that sounds weird, but these guys live together every 3rd
day for 24 hours, and sometimes in some of the most difficult of
circumstances. They joke, fight, bicker
and do all the things families do. They
know one another in a way that many families may not even know them. I was reminded yet again how close their
bonds are and strong their friendships grow.
Today, I was reminded of what a true hero is. It’s not just someone who runs into a burning
building or climbs a tall ladder. It’s
someone who does their job, day in and day out; selflessly putting their own
lives in jeopardy all to serve another.
Not because they have to, but because they freely choose to. I was reminded of what it takes to be a fire
wife. While I know there are dangers in
many professions, this is the one I know, and selfishly respect most. I know that fire wives take on so much. Day in and day out, we are the ones who learn
to kills snakes, change tires, hold feverish kids all night, run carpool and
have family dinners solo. We have missed
holidays, missed sporting events, postponed birthdays. Our calendars are not set in stone, they are
ever changing and on a schedule that is sometimes a pain to keep up with. We learn to be alone a lot. We have learned to size up our men as they
walk in the door, has it been a good night, a bad night or should I even
ask? We let them doze off when they
should be wide awake, knowing that they need the rest, probably didn’t get any
last night and will be better for it later.
We laugh at the crazy, ridiculous, unbelievable stories. We feel heartbreak at the sad, tragic
ones. And then, we don’t know half of
them because our guys have spared us from them by holding it all inside. Oh, how their hearts must have so much room
to hold onto the things they see and yet not really let them out. We do worry when we see news stories in their
areas. We worry when they’re on shift
and the weather changes. We know they work
all hours, no matter the weather. We understand
when they call and say they’re working an extra shift and will have to miss something
that has been planned. Our kids get used
to saying good morning and good night via the phone. Our kids grown up making visits to see daddy
on special occasions he has to work. We
console our kids when all they want is daddy and he can’t come home. We wait all day to have that 2 minute
conversation only to be interrupted by bells going off and a quick, call you
back as soon as I can. Fire wives are
tough. We learn to live in different
kind of world, with a different breed of men.
We are not better than any other wife out there. We’re just different. We get each other, town to town. We know many don’t get it and that’s
okay. I never dreamt that this would be
my life. I wouldn’t have picked it out
for me, should someone have listed out all the things above. Yet, it works. It’s our world. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
I wouldn’t trade knowing
that my husband selflessly helps those who cannot help themselves. I wouldn’t trade him knowing and working with
some of the best men out there. I
wouldn’t trade knowing that my children are watching a hero before their
growing little eyes. And I know that should
God choose to take him in the LOD, it would be doing what he loves. I also know that the firefighter brotherhood
would see us through it as I witnessed yet again today.
I go to bed tonight with a
heavy heart, yet a thankful heart. A
heart full of immeasurable pride in what my own hero does day in and day
out. I go to bed knowing that a great
man was laid to rest today because he gave the ultimate sacrifice. I know his
family will continue to mourn the incredible loss for days and weeks to
come. Yet, I know that they will
continually be lifted up and held by those who love them and loved Scotty. What a day it has been. So many lessons lived out and learned.
