My little grandson Braeden who passed away in April was fascinated by firemen and the trucks. So after he went home from the hospital with Hospice, he had the oportunity to tour two small town fire departments. They each gave him and his family a wonderful experience and the one took him home in the fire truck. The other gave him a real firefighter uniform and helmet. They also gave his big brother a helmet.
So a special part of the funeral was that after most of the people had left the auditorium, the firemen came in all dressed in their special dress uniforms and each, one by one approached the casket and saluted and said something like, "Farewell fireman Braeden Burgess." The last one was the chief who removed a white glove and layed it on Braeden's little chest and said something else of which I don't remember. We thought it was very touching. They also acted as honorary pall bearers.
Somewhere along the line, someone gave Dawn, his mom, this poem. Seeing Bullfrog is here and maybe others with a special heart for emergency service people, I thought you'd like to see it. Here is a picture of the casket with the uniform. Hope you don't think this is too tacky.
So a special part of the funeral was that after most of the people had left the auditorium, the firemen came in all dressed in their special dress uniforms and each, one by one approached the casket and saluted and said something like, "Farewell fireman Braeden Burgess." The last one was the chief who removed a white glove and layed it on Braeden's little chest and said something else of which I don't remember. We thought it was very touching. They also acted as honorary pall bearers.
Somewhere along the line, someone gave Dawn, his mom, this poem. Seeing Bullfrog is here and maybe others with a special heart for emergency service people, I thought you'd like to see it. Here is a picture of the casket with the uniform. Hope you don't think this is too tacky.
Firefighter's Gloves
A Firefighter's gloves hold many things,
From elderly arms to a kids broken swing,
From the hands they shake and the backs they pat,
To the tiny claw marks of another treed cat.
At 2 am they are filled with chrome,
From the DWI who was on her way home.
And the equipment they use to roll back the dash,
From the family of 6 she involved in the crash.
The brush rakes in spring, wear the palms out,
When the wind does a “90” to fill them with doubt.
The thumb of the glove wipes the sweat from the brow,
Of the face of a firefighter, who mutters “What now?”
They hold inch and three quarters flowing one twenty five
So the ones going in, come back out alive.
When the regulator goes; then there isn’t too much,
But the bypass valve they eagerly clutch.
The rescue equipment, the ropes, the C-collars;
The lives they saved never measured in dollars,
Are the obvious things firefighters gloves hold,
Or, so that is what I’ve been always told.
But there are other things Firefighter's gloves touch.
Those are the things we all need so much.
They hold back the rage on that 3 am call.
They hold in the fear when you’re lost in a hall.
They hold back the pity, agony, and sorrow.
They hold in the desire to “Do it tomorrow”.
A glove is just a glove till it’s on firefighters,
Who work all day long just to pull an all-nighter.
And into the fray they charge without fear,
At the sound of a “Help” they think that they hear.
When firefighter’s hands go into the glove,
It’s a firefighter who always fills it with love.
Sometimes the sorrow is too much to bear,
And it seeps the glove and burns deep “in there”.
Off come the gloves when the call is done,
And into the pocket until the next call.
The hands become lonely and cold for a bit,
And shake a bit, just thinking of it.
And so they sit red eyed with their gloves in their coats.
The tears come so fast that the furniture ner floats.
They’re not so brave now; their hands they can't hide
I guess it just means they are human inside.
And though some are paid, others are not.
The gloves feel the same when it’s cold or it’s hot.
To someone you’re helping to just get along,
When you fill them with love, you always feel strong.
And so when I go on my final big ride
I hope they remain, my gloves by my side,
To show to St. Peter at the heavenly gate.
Cause as everyone knows, firefighters don’t wait.
