Proudly serving on the Norwood Young America Fire Department (FDNYA) for nearly 30 years, my Dad has put the lives and safety of others ahead of his own. His sense of duty, responsibility and honor is endless. A true man of service.
Growing up with a real-life hero for a Dad is pretty cool. Being able to tell all my friends my Dad is a fire-fighter and bringing an old helmet of his to show-and-tell pretty much makes any 3rd grader feel invincible. I still feel pretty damn cool when I tell people. Fire-fighters function as a family, and being a part of that family is special.
Going into the station on weekends with my Dad when my Mom had to work, playing and climbing around on the all the trucks with my brother & sister while my Dad inspected them to make sure they were ready to do what they do- help save lives - is a memory I will cherish forever. A fire department playground - nope, you can't beat it.
I have wanted to write about this for awhile, but it's been challenging. Earlier, I mentioned my Dad has proudly served for nearly 30 years, that is the challenge. Nearly.
When my Dad was diagnosed with cancer last November he had to make a very difficult decision. One that he needed to make. One he does not regret making. One I do not regret he made. One he should not have had to make. One that broke my heart, and I think his a bit too. The demands of actively serving on the department while battling cancer were too great. He understood that it would not be fair to himself, his family, the department or anyone he tried to help. But hitting the 30 year mark for a fire-fighter is something special and unique, not something many have achieved.
Serving on the department for 30 years and eventually retiring has been a life-long goal for my Dad. I can remember him talking about it since I was young. The catch is, he would have served longer than 30 years if he had the chance. It was never about hitting the 30 years, having the special ceremony and receiving all the bells & whistles that go along with it -it was about doing what he wanted to do, doing what he felt called to do. I think that sense of duty is rare, and I think it should be celebrated.
As far as I'm concerned, he achieved his goal.
He would probably not agree with some of what I am writing - a sense of duty, honor or any of those impressive words and phrases. Modesty and humility reign champion, something that I think is common in people who truly live to serve.
As of February 2011, my Dad is a retired fire-fighter. Just a few months short of 30 years of service. The department has been a part of over half of his life, and all of mine. I, honestly, can not contain the pride I feel for my Dad and all he does. There are countless memories of his pager going off at dinner, at church, in restaurants, in the middle of the night or weekend, always in the middle of something. And with each interrupting page I never ever felt sad, annoyed or disappointed - never. Always proud. Always.
{FDNYA - MATHWIG - #14}
Cancer unfairly steals away so much. I can't begin list what it all steals, I am not as strong as my Dad. But I am learning, and after all these long months he has not complained, not acted bitter, not even for a moment given up hope. At least as far as I know - but I have a sneaky feeling he really is as strong as I believe him to be, in fact, I believe he is stronger than I could even imagine, stronger than he even knows. We laugh more, hug more and talk more than ever before. I've cried a bit more as well, but come on - that's no surprise. And as my parents 25th wedding anniversary draws near, they are closer than ever.
I need to call out the strength of my Mom here as well. She is an unsung hero in this story. Dealing with the all the changes and unpredictability of everything with such grace. She will get a post soon...
Challenges and adversity are a part of life. One of the most important lessons I have learned from my Dad, and what I know to be true is, "Just work through it." Doesn't matter what it is, there is a way through. And it never is all that bad. Deal with it.
This experience has been scary. But also not scary. I don't blame you if you don't believe me, I wouldn't of before this either considering I'm an expert worrier, but I haven't stayed up all night or been distracted all day because I know everything is going to work out. I wanted to write this little (very long) post to bid adieu to the FDNYA and say, "Way to go Dad, you're the best! I'm so proud."
And in his wise words:
"Keep the faith."
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