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After working out today, I decided to walk down Eighth Avenue, stop at Subway, and get some lunch. That route goes past the firehouse.
That company, the Pride of Midtown (Engine 54 and Ladder 4), lost 15 men last week. The entrance is piled high with flowers, cards, candles, a huge pack of lifesavers, and other memorial offerings. I stood in line to sign the condolence book, tears in my eyes as I waited. The person who signed just before me had added "Glasgow, Scotland" after her name.
Somehow, 15 deaths is easier to comprehend than 300. 15 specific firefighters, with color photos and names on the wall, working out of a firehouse I walk past regularly.
That company, the Pride of Midtown (Engine 54 and Ladder 4), lost 15 men last week. The entrance is piled high with flowers, cards, candles, a huge pack of lifesavers, and other memorial offerings. I stood in line to sign the condolence book, tears in my eyes as I waited. The person who signed just before me had added "Glasgow, Scotland" after her name.
Somehow, 15 deaths is easier to comprehend than 300. 15 specific firefighters, with color photos and names on the wall, working out of a firehouse I walk past regularly.
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So I'm reading the individual stories, as I can. And mourning them one by one or 15 by 15.
It's going to take a long time.