"Hey mom!" He yelled from the attic door,
"What's these old heavy boots and hard hat for?"
With a lump in her throat and a tear stained cheek
His mother swallowed and started to speak.
"Come here my son," his mother said,
"There's things to tell when I clear my head."
The past races madly through her mind.
She searched her heart for the words to find.
At last she sighed and rubbed his hair
And the words that followed I'd like to share.
"Those boots & hat," She said with pride,
"Were worn by a man with grit inside.
He wore them to help people in need.
Though facing danger would never concede.
Many a time in the dead of night
He jumped in those boots and flashed out of sight
To answer a call, not knowing for sure
What danger or heartache he may have to endure.
Your father, my son, was not like most dads,
It was mainly because of the job he had.
His life was devoted to all of mankind,
Just why he chose it's not clear in my mind.
I've often regretted the life that we led,
When every third night I was alone in our bed.
But your mother is proud to say she was part
Of a man who possessed such a courageous heart.
So the memories I've kept & the love I will save
Are small consolations for the life that he gave.
Yet, for all his discomfort & all of his pain
The time that he spent here was never in vain."
I know full well these words to be true,
And not one word did she misconstrue.
But from all my mother shared that day
It's these last few words I'd like to convey.
My mother, with tears, save a long loving sigh,
And I knew what would follow was not meant to die.
With a smile so warm & a voice very weak,
She kissed my young brow & started to speak.
"Your father's days here made others seem brighter.
For your father, my son, was a firefighter."
This poem was taken from the bulletin board at Engine 50 CFD. The author is unknown.
