There is a small stone in my belly, I must have swallowed it to get it there. It rumbles around with numerous other small stones that I have swallowed and forgotten about or refuse to think of. It is jagged and prickly. It is named fear. This week, I have been forced to bring it forth, spit it out into my hand like I would a cherry pit, and see it for what it really is. I am afraid that some day my husband will not come home to me. The fear does not paralyze me, does not make me a coward or un-brave, does not prevent me from living my life fully, but it is there. It is inside me. I need to acknowledge it and learn to understand it and live with it like one does a disease that threatens to make a body and spirit frail and dull.
I won’t be made a slave to my fear.
But I am afraid.
Writing about it helps.
I have been away in Walla Walla, Washington with my parents (on Robert’s side of the family), some of my sisters, my aunts and uncles and cousins. We gathered as a family to remember Grandmother Jean who passed away earlier this year. It was a wonderful time, a meaningful time, a rich time. I am thankful I was with family when I heard the news that nineteen wildland firefighters were burned over in Arizona. When I was told, my heart stopped beating. I had a terrifying moment when I realized that one might be Robert, who was supposed to be in Alaska, but as all smokejumper wives can attest, could really have been anywhere in the USA. We go for days, at times, without hearing from our men and they can be sent to different bases without our knowing.
My friend told me the crew lost was a hotshot crew.
My heart fell into a deeper silence.
We have friends who are like brothers and sisters to us on numerous hotshot crews and I wondered which one of them might be dead.
Shockingly enough, we didn’t have a friend or acquaintance on the Granite Mountain Hotshots. I feel…guilty that everyone I know and love is alive. I feel guilty for being thankful. I feel shame over the fact that I haven’t a specific person I can grieve for. But I grieve regardless. I am deeply and terribly sad. Disturbed. Upset. Rattled. I cry too much. Too easily.
In Walla Walla I managed to box up my grief and focus on my family, on remembering Grandmother Jean. I don’t know how I did. I am not one to hold in my emotions. As soon as I began the drive back to the Methow Valley, I drew up my sadness and cried for the better part of five hours. I simply could not contain my sorrow. It leaked out of me, drop by drop. This was when I realized, fully, that I am afraid my husband will be burned over one day. I am afraid our friends will be burned over. The nineteen firefighters lost could have been any of our friends. One could have been Robert. The raw grit of that fact is ripping at my heart right now.
Robert continues his current boost at the Fairbanks, Alaska smokejumper base. I wish he could come home so I could wrap my arms around him and make sure he is still real. I wish I could wrap my arms around all our friends who are fighting fire right now and tell them how much I love them and cherish them. I wish I could tell them all, in person, to take great care, to trust their instincts when they are on the line, to come home safe, again and again to us.
I want to tell everyone who took a second to write to me, with concern and care, or text me, or phone me, that I appreciate it very, very much. Thank you for thinking of us and for taking the time to check in. The loss of almost an entire hotshot crew is a catastrophe and we do not go untouched by grief.
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No forest, no structure is more valuable than nineteen human lives. Not now. Not ever.
To the ones who remain: The mothers, fathers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, lovers, wives and babies: I cannot fathom the depth of your grief, I cannot fathom my own right now, but I know yours is severe and all consuming and much, much greater than mine. If there is anything the North Cascades Smokejumper Family can do for you, do not hesitate to call. I speak for our fire family when I say we are at your service and hold you in our hearts.
To the one crew member who survived: Feel no guilt. Do not fade away. We love you even if we don’t personally know you, and are so thankful that you remain. Your life is precious. Please, live it.
To all the ones who are left, battling flame today: Please come home. Safe and soon.
Dear Jillian, when I saw the tragedy on the news, my heart sank. The first thing I thought was: RW!!!!! I am so glad he’s well. I will say a little prayer for all those involved– those who died, their families/friends, and for those who have the constant worry (you, dear Plume). Sending Loving Kindness to you—
Oh, love, you are in my heart, you and R, all of those you love, all of those you don’t know but love anyway, I send prayers to you all, and love.
Oh Jilly, so beautifully written. I have cried this week too for the lost hotshots and for the ones who battle for us still. I have prayed and prayed over Robert and his crew. There just are no words, only grief. They are all heros. Those who live and those who died fighting fire. I can imagine your fear because I felt it for you all week. I know this hit you hard. It hits hard for all. I too, ache inside for the loved ones left behind. The tiniest glimmer of respite comes from knowing these loved ones will be loved harder by the remaining hotshots and theirs. The beauty is in the brotherhood of these amazing individuals. I feel this when we lose any American who sacrificed their life so we can live the American dream. Whether is be soldiers, Seals, police or firefighters. They all matter. Their brotherhood matters. I really hope you get that hug sooner than soon. Give him one for me too, and please tell him I say thank you! Thank you Robert for daring to brave the unknown and the wildness of fire and flame. Your service does not go unnoticed nor is not appreciated. You and your brothers are appreciated more than you could ever, ever know.
Hugs to you both.
I too immediately thought of both you and your dear hubby when I first heard this news. Everything inside of me tensed up. I’m happy to know that he is ok. I just want to pass along many thank you’s to RW and his fellow Wildland Firefighters for taking on such a responsibility and doing what they do day in and out. Also, thank you to you and the other spouse’s/significant others that selflessly watch their loved ones leave and risk their lives for the safety of others.
Dear Jillian, As i laid in bed that dreadful morning and heard the news of the firefighters, RW was the 1st one to come to my mind, as I know of nobody else that does the job he does, besides our local volunteer firefighters. I was so relieved for you when i found out it was not him. Thank god for all the brave men & women who do those jobs & I can’t imagine what all the spouses and families go through from day to day waiting and wondering if their loved ones will return. Almost the same as service people i guess. Hug tight & stay strong. Kimberly
I am always impressed by those who run into danger, while everyone else runs out. It’s an insufferable pain when you find they have not returned because they chose to go where others would not.
I thought of your and Robert when I heard of the hotshots who fell and I wondered how you were/are holding up. I am so very grateful for the service of that man of yours, and for you, in supporting him in his. I was so happy to hear that it was not his crew in Arizona. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, feeling this tragedy so close to home and having Robert so far away. I’ll be thinking of you often.
Jillian, my first thought was of you and Robert when I heard this news. I’m not sure what to say, but you said it pretty well.
xo
Hello Jillian, On Sunday when I heard the news here in Prescott, my immediate thought was RW and you. When I read the names I was relieved, but no less heartbroken. The people here have rallied around the firefighter’s families, they will be taken care of, but nothing will replace those brave men and their love for their families and friends.
I hold you and RW in my prayers everyday. Thanks for being here in the world.
Sharon
Mike came in the bedroom that morning and told me – 19 firefighters had died in the Arizona fire. I sat up and said, Oh God! I hope Robert wasn’t one of them! He knew who I meant, and said, No, they were all local men. I laid down again, greatly relieved for you both, but so, so sad for the lost men and their families and friends.
I have held you and Robert up in prayer since that day – I can only imagine the fear that has tormented you.
Be strong, dear one. All the strength and peace that you need is in His Name.
I can’t even put all my emotions into words–they are resting as tears in my eyes. I love you so much.
I can’t help but sit here and cry reading your words.
My thoughts went immediately to you, Robert and your fire family.
Do take care.
Love you.
Even I, who am in Australia and read your blog but don’t always comment, thought of you and your husbend when I first heard about this on the news. I am very glad that Robert and the rest of the crew that you know are well. These brave men and women indeed need to be cherished for the courageous work that they do. May the ones that did not survive rest in peace.
Jillian,
thank you for your post. We have been hit very hard here in Prescott. Kevin is a firefighter for the Prescott Fire Department and EVERY single one of those guys was his friend. I have been working as a liaison for the City with the families of the lost men (widows, lovers, moms, dads, brothers, sisters.) It is a horrifying job, but spares the grieving ones the gruesome details of things they don’t want to be thinking about (Line-of-duty benefits, body identification, cooking, scheduling travel for family; someone’s got to do it!) Lost: 19 strong, passionate, young men. Brave, brave, heroic souls who saved (among other things) a single tree that meant a lot to me and Kevin (at the Granite Mountain Fire the week before.) They were so excited to share pictures of that special 800 year old Alligator Juniper with us one night at dinner. Kevin proposed to me in that tree. These men climbed the tree to put out sparks WITH A WATER BOTTLE. The entire forest burned around them, but they saved that one tree. One week later they are all gone.
Jillian, before I knew it was our local Prescott Hotshot crew, I wondered and worried about you (and Hannah) and your men. So worried. I’m so glad your men are safe and not on our Yarnell Hill fire. So relieved everyday when my man walks through the door to hug me. Many of my friends are still down there trying to safe the rest of that little town of Yarnell. What brave men we love.
It’s all just too much.
xoxo Kerry
Hard to know what words to say – just know that there is much love directed your way and to your town as you work to greive, process and heal. Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you, Kerry.
Just.
Thank you.
I always wonder what kind of woman might have to take care of me one day…it’s going to be a woman like you.
Thank you.
Only love,
J
I know pain, grief, holding on to prickly rocks in my belly. I am sad that this is what you feel right now. Loss or the impending fear of loss is the hardest. I hope you heal and get strong again when it’s time. Please don’t hide in the fear. You have voiced your sorrow so well I am crying with you.
even though i’ve never met either of you, my mind went to both you and hannah, and your loved ones, when i heard the news. it must be a difficult balance, loving and supporting but with that stone in your belly. i hope you can wrap robert in your arms again soon, and don’t feel guilty about it one bit.
I wish I could wrap my arms around you in silent comfort and prayer x
I too, like many of your readers immediately thought of you and your husband. I was relieved that RW is safe, but so heartbroken over the young, brave lives lost. Keep well Plume. My thoughts and prayers are with the fire community.
i thought of you as soon as i heard. i’m so glad RW is ok and that none of your friends were hurt. Terrible news. i know how you feel, i get the same sick awful feeling every time a small aircraft crashes…thinking of you and sending my love!
xoxo
Oh Jillian…
I’m so so sorry to hear such horrible news. ( I don’t think they had it on news here in Finland so this is the first time I hear about it)
I don’t have words. As there is no consolation in anything I can say for those who have lost a loved one, but I am feeling bits of their sorrow. I’ll cry for their pain and yours too.
Anna
Oh Jillian. I can’t even imagine what you are feeling and experiencing. I also immediately thought of you as did Suzette. My brother even called from Iowa because I had told him about my friend and her husband the smokejumper. I wish that I could hug you until RW comes home to you.
Please send me your address when you get a chance. I want to send a proper letter and a hug if I can figure out how to put it in a box. xo
Biggest hugs and lots of prayers to you.
My heart is soo hurting over this sadness! Thank you for this post. I’ve been sending my prayers to the family and friends.
you said the most important thing: live life and feel no guilt. live life and do not fade away.
i pray every day for robert and his smokejumper brothers, for their safety, and for them to return home to the arms of loved ones.
my heart fairly crushed when i heard the news about the hotshot crew. even mister pencilfox felt the blow and was concerned for you and robert.
beloved friend: do not EVER be ashamed of crying and outwardly showing your sadness. i feel it and carry your heart in my heart.
xxxx
Tears rolling down my cheeks I cannot even imagine how you must feel…I won’t try. Sending you much love, strength, and the stoic energy of the HUGE turtle I saw on the beach on Monday, she made me think of you when I saw her.
Much love to you and your beloved fire community Jillian. This is a very courageous thing to write on your blog. You are an honest and wonderful woman. Many blessings!
I have been thinking of you and Robert. As a resident of Fairbanks, I am so thankful for all the brave work those hotshots crew do. We currently have two major fires burning on either side of town and are far too familiar with this situation. If he needs a home-cooked meal and some peace, you know where to find me. I wish I could offer the same to you, I am sending my thoughts none-the-less.
I am sad to hear of the Arizona firefighters and only understand of their lives through your blog and words about RW. You’re both brave souls, Plume. Thanks for your courage and vulnerability (which is courage as well). Godspeed.
it touched us over here too, so far away. thinking of you and sending support. thinking of them all, so brave.
You give voice to your fears so bravely Jillian.
I am so happy that you and your loved ones are safe.
And my heart reaches out to those that have lost such brave souls.
God bless them.
I immediately thought of Robert & you when I heard the news. I said a little prayer for you both, and everyone who has someone ‘out there’. I’m glad y’all are safe, but I’m so sad for all the families that are affected. Take good care, and keep thinking your beautiful thoughts.
I, too, immediately thought of you when I heard the news and I am relieved to hear that R.W. is well and safe. I share your grief which you’ve put into words so beautifully and courageously.
I have watched and read these postings for days just even trying to find words to form my own response worthy enough. I was driving home from work that night horrified as i heard the news on NPR and instantly thought of you and RW and hoping he was alright. Its unfathomable to even try to wrap my head around this tragedy. Brave, brave men who’s job is to put themselves in harms way to help other people and they didnt make it. Wow. That job takes a certain caliber of man and the loss of such a man is a loss to the whole world.
Dear Jillian … I don’t even know what to say. What a terrible and tragic accident. How incredibly sad this news is. I can’t imagine what worry and fear you must feel each time your beloved and his team go out on a mission. I am so glad he is safe. What incredible men they truly are.
For you, sweet Jillian, I’m sending you warm loving and supportive hugs. XX
Oh dearest Jillian,
My heart has been aching over this and it is such a terrible loss and yes, does give rise to such a grave fear. My heart is with you in your sorrow, my prayers are with Robert and with the families who lost these beautiful, wonderful men. I send you love and so many hugs. I sent a donation to the firefighters, I wish there was more I could do but nothing could ever be enough, could it? So much love. <3
Jillian,
This post was so well articulated. As a hotshot wife, I have mourned again and again this week for the Granite Mountain crew, as I feel that they are brothers even if I had never met them. Firefighters are one big family, and when some are taken from us we all are hit hard.
Thank you for your post, and for articulating for me what I found difficult to put into words.
Jen
Oh my heart. When I heard the news, I immediately thought of you two…
hope you have that man of yours home soon…
sending you so much love.
Dear J: When I heard of this news, hours after it happened, naturally you were the one I was thinking of, and I did not want to email or write to you because I knew every one would and still, what would one write about, how terrible it is and was…I applaud you for sharing your feelings with us…fact is, I believe many of us live with some sort of fear inside of us all the time…if it is not one thing, for sure it is another…we are stressed beings…I am grateful that you are well and so is Robert,,,,that you were with family…thinking of you and of them with love
Since I first heard about those brave men, I thought of you and what I could possibly say that would sooth a sad and fearful heart. I still don’t know what to say, so I send gratutude and love to you whom I have never met and to every brave soul who runs in when the rest of us flee.
The other thing I couldn’t stop thinking about this week was the song “Cold Missouri Waters” by Canadian Folk Singer James Keelaghan about the Mann Gulch Fire in Montana 1949. Rings eerily similar, but beautifully written and sung – I cry every time I hear it.
Oh God.
Mann Gulch.
Every time RW leaves I tell him, “Don’t Mann-Gulch-it on this one, baby. I love you.” It might seem flippant. But it’s really, deeply, not.
Thank you all for being here.
You bring comfort to a sad heart.
I hope I can repay that comfort one day.
Love,
Jillian
love, love, & more BIG love. xoxoxoxo
Jillian, you have been on my mind since I heard about the tragedy in Arizona. Thank you for writing. I hope you can hug your husband very soon!
Thank you all again, for being here.
X
These words meant so much today, as I just found out that my man is next in line for wildland fire deployment in Colorado. Excited for him and the opportunity for learning and growth, but there is a healthy amount of fear mixed in there. I’ll be working on not letting that fear take over in the coming weeks.
To embracing life in the face of fear,
AD
on your shoulder… always.
Jillian, half way through reading, I just started crying, unexpectedly. Had to stop for a few moments to take a breath. I felt a flash of panic course through me when I found out. I’m relieved you are both okay.
I’m very sad those young, brave men are gone.