While I was stranded yesterday in the Albuquerque, I ventured around to see what there was to snack on. I also noticed three men in their Firefighter formal dress shirts with ties. They looked lost, worried, and in a hurry, like they wanted to get somewhere fast. I heard them stop and ask a fellow co-worker where a certain gate was, she answered and they continued searching. They intrigued me, maybe because I have 2 cousins that risk their lives everyday, so they stood out to me. As I waited to get down the jetway to get on my plane, the three found their way over to the gate I was at, they walked up and asked to speak with the Captain of our flight. He obliged, shook their hands and then I heard something that shook me to the core, that gave me the biggest reality check ever.
"We are carrying our friend, a fallen Firefighter, home to his family."
I cried. (I'm crying)
That man was a son, a brother, a husband, a uncle, a grandson, a father. In this life, his family will never get to hug him or kiss him again.
I try not to let the small things bother me, go with the flow, but yesterday was an exception. I wanted to be home with Cutter, I wanted to be here to experience the snow with him. But when I heard those words, I realized that I was sweating the small stuff. I get to go home to hug and kiss on my babies. The mother of that fallen firefighter won't.
That breaks my heart.