I did not dream of growing up to be a firefighter. However, I fell in love with and married someone who did. I am the wife of a firefighter. What does that mean? It means no matter where I vacation, I visit the local firehouse; it means eating alone when the tones go off, and they always seem to go off right as a hot meal is placed on the table. It means my faking interest in and enthusiasm over new fire trucks, tools, and stories about the latest “cool” extrication.
In a grumpy mood one day, I snapped at my husband as he was regaling me with some firehouse story, “You joined the fire service. I was drafted.” This is true of many firefighter spouses who, like their firefighting counterparts, endure sleepless nights, missed meals, and missed family time.
Don’t misunderstand. I knew full well when I said, “I do” to what I was committing, and I have enjoyed the fun and camaraderie that has also accompanied being a part of this amazing community.
Waking up today to the news that 19 firefighters were killed in a wildfire in Arizona brought to light the very stark reality that my husband could leave our home for work one day and would have kissed us all for the last time.
Today, 19 families lost sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers. Those men and all of their brother firefighters on the job across this country are true heroes. No one will dispute that fact. However, let us take a moment to remember that they selected their career knowing they could be called to make the ultimate sacrifice at any time. Their families, on the other hand, were “drafted” and to some degree unwillingly give of their family so that a stranger’s family can be safe.
Keep in your mind the unsung heroes–the firefighters’ family members. In your prayers, remember not only those lost but also those left behind to live with giant holes in their families, lives, and hearts.
Leigh-Anne Deschenes Bordas
