Wednesday, February 12, 2014

The loss of a brother - aren't you scared?

"Your husband's a firefighter?  Oh my gosh, doesn't that scare you?  Don't you worry?"

Such short questions, with such long answers.  The simple answer is yes, I worry.  But no, not really.  Confusing, right?

I remember when Jason and I first started talking to each other.  I worried myself silly.  We didn't really "date" since we met online, but we talked for hours every night, and I asked tons of questions about his job, and he told me tons of stories.  And, of course, I worried.  And I remember what he told me then - "Babe, don't worry, this is why we train."

So, yes, I worry.  But, when I worry, I do the same thing he does, I rely on his training.  These men and women don't take their jobs lightly.  I mean, sure, you see the ones out there that don't stay physically fit, that don't train, and yes, they worry me.  Not just for the people that they may not be able to help, but for themselves, because one day, their bodies just might not be up to the task, and it might end up being a very bad day.  And in their line of work, a bad day can mean that someone doesn't make it home - ever.

But, for the most part, these folks train their hearts out.  They practice every scenario, they test their equipment to make sure it's ready, they test their bodies to make sure they are ready, they test each other to make sure they work together with mechanical precision.  They train.  And that training saves lives.  Not just yours and mine, but their own.  So no, I don't worry.  I mean, I worry, of course I do, but I don't sit and fret every time he goes out on a call, I live my life, and I rely on his training to bring him home.

So what truly worries me?  Those situations that they can't train for.  The jokers that see the flashing red lights and the big red trucks, but think that whatever they are hurrying to is too important for them to slow down and move over.  The folks that live in 100 year old tinderbox houses and won't spend 40 dollars on a working smoke detector.  The people with 5 kids and no escape plan.  The person that hoards so many "things" in their house that there's no safe way in or out.  The guy with that one piece of memorabilia so important that he'll run back into a burning building to get it, regardless of how dangerous it is.  The militant crazy person with explosives or weaponry in his house that isn't kept in a fireproof safe.  These are the things that frighten me.

On Monday evening in Dallas, firefighter Scott Tanksley was doing what he was trained to do.  When a car lost control on an icy patch of road, he called out to the driver to make sure that the driver was uninjured, and was on his way to secure the scene.  He encouraged the driver to stay in the vehicle for his own safety, and in so doing he saved the driver's life....and lost his own.  Another driver lost control, struck the first vehicle, and then struck firefighter Tanksley, knocking him off the bridge they were on, and he fell 5 and a half stories to his death.  That's what you'll read in the news stories.

Firefighter Tanksley was a husband and the father of three young children, and by all accounts a good and honorable man.  He was also a firefighter, which makes him my husband's brother, and mine.

Here's what you won't read in the news.  On Monday night, wives all over the country grieved with Mrs. Tanksley.  Today, we all grieve with her.  We all held our husbands a little closer, clung to our phones a little tighter if our spouse's were on duty, re-read the last text messages we got from them, and cried into our pillows that night.  Our hearts are broken.  One of our own was lost that night.  This is our family.  And while the news stories and Facebook posts will slow down after a few days, we won't forget.  Those three children, and Mrs. Tanksley will not go through this alone, not ever.  They will always have this family by their sides. Someone will always make sure they have what they need.  It will be done quietly, and without much fanfare, but that's how family works.  We don't need a lot of recognition, we just need to be there.  It's what we do.

And what do we do to fight the fear?  Well, I'm not sure what other women do.  I know what I do.  I tell my husband I love him.  A lot.  A really lot.  And I mean it.  Every. Single. Time.  Even when I'm picking his socks up off the floor, or doing dishes for the third time because it drives me bonkers to have them in the sink, or tripping over his station boots.  And especially when he's doing some laundry because he knows I'm tired, or doing dishes because he knows it drives me bonkers to have them in the sink.  :)

I try to make our home a haven, a safe place.  When he comes home, I want this to be a place of warmth and love, not a place of strife and conflict.  He gets enough of that at work.  When he's had a bad shift, or a bad call, I listen, or I let him work through it.

I go up to the local station house where he volunteers and I hug the guys so they know I love them, even when I want to pinch some of them because they're stubborn or cocky.  Because I love them - even when they're stubborn or cocky.

I get involved.  I ask questions.  I learn as much as I can about what he does so that what he tells me makes sense, and so that when he needs to talk, he can talk, and not have to stop to explain.

I talk to other women like me, other fire wives.  Women who understand what it's like to have your husband do what he does.

I live my life.  I work, I play, I keep myself busy.

And I pray.  I remember that the Bible isn't just a bunch of pieces of paper with cool leather binding and pretty gold paint on the edges.  It's a promise.  It's a promise from God that at the end of all this, even when the things of this world don't or haven't made sense, it's going to be ok.  It's going to be better than ok.  And when I doubt, or when I need reassurance, I hold that promise close to my chest, hit my knees, lift my eyes and my heart to heaven and I call out to the one that can give me peace.  And He never ever lets me down.

Tonight my prayers are for the Tanksley family, that He will give them that peace, and for the members of the Dallas Fire Department that I know are hurting so badly right now.  Your family stands with you.

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