existing priorities may change 24

VICE PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE

The sky was dark as the rain began to fall. Each droplet pooled on the crowns of their service caps, forging a path down to the brim, ultimately finding the road below. Traffic was abruptly held at a standstill, while a sea of uniforms stood in puddles at attention. To the general public, this was a spectacle that drew onlookers. There was no break in the precession of women and men standing together in support of their fallen comrade. Firefighters lined both sides of the street, a formidable assembly of people not divided by rank, division or age. All eyes were forward peering across to their brothers and sisters, opposite to them.

The single bagpipe whine pierced the silence, and the Honour Guard snapped to attention. It sent an eerie chill down my spine. “Too many too often,” my mind painfully wandered. A mournful base drum, pounding out a repetitive tempo, that guided the precession of parade uniformed members out of the church. Each step of the pallbearer’s unit marched in perfect precision, surrounding the coffin on either side. The vessel draped in a Canadian Flag enters the caisson pumper for the last call. All the other represented flag colours bowed in honour when the deceased passed. An apparatus layered in bunting readied to assist with the final journey. The music grew louder when the rest of the band roared in time, signifying the beginning of the closing ceremony.

While exiting the church, Family and Friends were taken back by pure emotion at the first glimpse of the attachment shared by this profession. They were finding comfort, knowing that they were not alone. Understanding the magnitude of the number of people their loved one touched. Nothing would make this better, but compassion gave them strength. For the first time, they understood what it was like to be a Firefighter. The pride was overwhelming; they were part of an extraordinary bond, tied together forever.

A giant Canadian Flag strung up between two aerial ladders, flapping in the wind offered a patriotic landscape. As the motorcade started to weave a path through the long chain of blue, there was a sharp “Attention,” commanded the Marshal, and in unison, the company stood, silently, with their bodies stiff and straight. Standing shoulder length apart concealing the view from the general public, a mass of over 500 stretched down the street. Each person was waiting for their turn to pay their final respects.

In the full throat, the Toronto Fire Pipes and Drums set the pace, wearing their recognizable tartan. Each colour of the tartan represents or signifies a different meaning. Red is the symbol of fire. Blue, representing both the uniformed Fire Fighters and water. The white signifying the senior officers and the light, which finds its way through the smoke. The gold represents Staff Officers. The black is the smoke seen between the white and flanking the gold represents our fallen comrades.

A few steps behind the Toronto Firefighters War Veterans followed in suit. A dedicated group made up of volunteers who give their time and service to both Toronto Fire and the Military in the GTHA.

The Cap bearer, with her arms extended, her handshaking passes. Although visibly standing alone, you cannot help but notice the support of the many that surround her. There is no greater honour, yet an unthinkable burden, for anyone who takes this journey.

As the in-service Pumper approaches, I wonder will it make that turn squeezing between the lines of firefighters on either side of the street. The truck staffed with the crew that last served with the man of honour. It was apparent the emotions of the day have taken a toll on everyone. There is an incredible bond that is hard to describe to an outsider. You would think the mind would dwell on the time spent together, dealing with the unthinkable, but it is only the beautiful memories that standout.

One by one, the Firefighters lining the street raise their white-gloved right hand to form a holding salute. It creates a domino effect as the procession passes. You cannot help but notice the strain etched into their faces. To some, it is too close to home as they reminisce about the words shared by family minutes before. To think, “I have a daughter the same age” how hard it must be on these brave souls. Nevertheless, standing as one gives the mass the strength to get through this. A tradition that will continue to provide support for those who will inevitably come next.

The antique vehicle with the Honour Guard flanking either side reaches the acknowledgment. As their friend and comrade pass, there is a moment of reflection, a question of “WHY?” fills everyone’s thoughts.

One by one, each Firefighter’s release their gesture of respect as their hands fall to attention as the immediate family drifts along. The eyes of two families connected, sharing the pain. One knew him as Daddy or Honey, while the others had nicknames often not suitable to share outside of their group. As they move by, there is a sense of compassion and understanding. They are not alone; instead, that feeling replaced with a level of fellowship and belonging.

Although the events of this article are entirely fictional, it represents anyone we have lost. It highlights the importance of our Firefighter Family. The importance of supporting one another, regardless of where you work or how well you knew someone.

A daughter of one of our members recounted her experiences after the celebration of the life of her father. I found it very touching, providing insight into what our traditions and rituals mean to the family of our fallen. That is what inspired me to write this article.

With her permission, I will share her Tweets: “you can picture a procession where the firefighters line the street, but you don’t understand the magnitude or how impressive” “And as we walk behind and you saw all the firefighters saluting. It was just……… No words will ever be able to describe the magnitude or how amazing it was” “I know my dad was so respected and honoured” The rain continued to fall, helping to conceal the emotions of many onlookers. I often wonder if these are tears from heaven.

Kevin McCarthy, Vice President Toronto Professional Fire Fighters’ Association I.A.F.F. Local 3888

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