My husband, Richard, was a firefighter for more than 30 years, and he loved every minute of it—especially being with his crew. The affection was mutual. When Richard was battling lung cancer, his cousin Julia told the fire chief she wanted to make a memory jar for Richard.
She received so many letters sharing memories of him that she had to deliver them in baskets. The delivery brought the biggest smile to Richard’s face. And it returned every time he opened a new letter.
Some were from longtime buddies, and some were from new firefighters, who had only heard about his service. And his pranks—one colleague remembered the time Richard had cut out a pair of eyes from a magazine photo and taped them to his glasses before taking a nap.
One day, another friend brought over his fireman’s scrapbook. Richard got out his, and they reminisced and laughed for hours. Those baskets got Richard though his pain, right up until he climbed the fire ladder to heaven.
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