Brothers and sisters

It's Memorial Day, 2011. As I stand with my fellow firefighters enduring a drizzling rain that only amplifies the humidity clouding the air, I struggle to focus on the inspirational words of the speaker at the memorial service. A police lieutenant in town, he's speaking about his military service, and how the men and women he served with became the family that he never had in his youth. Lined up to my right are the proud lines of a National Guard troop, their camouflage ranks serving as a reminder of why, exactly, we celebrate Memorial Day; to remember those who we've lost. As the sun comes out, and the heat intensifies, and the lieutenant's voice chokes with emotion, my eye is caught by a young soldier falling out of rank. She stumbles briefly, hands covering her face, and I realize she can't be older than 19 or 20. Her sergeant quickly places him arm around her and escorts her to a bench; I can't for the life of me figure out if the soldier is overcome by grief, the memorial speaker's words recalling some personal tragedy of her own? Perhaps she's ill; perhaps it's only the heat...
   As the young soldier sits on the bench, cradling her head in her hands, I see something that I will remember for years to come; something that makes me proud to be a fireman. Three of my fellow brothers, sweltering in their dress blues, share a glance, and on some unspoken cue, move as one to the soldier's side. One helps her with a bottle of water; one takes a pulse to make sure she's calmed down, and one simply sits next to her with his arm around her shoulders, leaning close to whisper, "It's ok. We're with you. It's ok..." I feel my throat tighten as I watch the tableau before me; my brother firefighters comforting a sister soldier, their simple presence assuring her that it IS ok, that we ARE with her, that she is not alone.
   As I stand with my fellow firefighters for the remainder of the memorial service, I forget the heat staining my department polo with sweat. I realize with a startling glimpse that I had completely undone my misconceptions of the Memorial Day holiday. I realized with a flash of (rare) mental acuity that the reason I was there,the reason that all my fellow firefighters, police officers, and soldiers were there was twofold.  First; to honor, respect, and remember the lives that have been lost defending our precious country. But second, and perhaps most important, to honor those who remain. To stand as one with our fellows in the armed forces, and to let them know that while they serve to protect us abroad, we serve to protect them at home. That while they defend us with their lives, in whatever god forsaken desert or mountains they are in, that they can can rest easy at night knowing we've got their back; that their homes and families are safe with us.
   So here's the inspiration I realized on that hot, humid Memorial Day; my message to every civilian out there; remember those who still serve. Hug a cop; buy a firefighter's coffee; send a soldier a card. Because whether hauling an M-16 through the hills of Afghanistan, or hauling a deuce and a half hose through the front door of a burning structure, we are all one. We are all brothers and sisters. And to all the men and women in the armed forces, I tell you this; sleep easy wherever you are, my friends....we ARE with you. You are NOT alone.