19 +1
It is not an arithmetic equation.
7 years ago today was a tragic moment for Arizona and for our nation. The Granite Mountain Hotshots were fighting a mountain wildfire in Yarnell, Az when things took a terrible turn. They were hiking to a ranch designated as a safe place when a thunderstorm approached suddenly above the mountain sending a fire windstorm in their direction. They ran for their lives through the mountain canyon and then deployed their emergency shelters as the fire overtook them in seconds. Some didn't even have a chance to do that. There were 20 men in the Granite Mountain hotshot group that day. 19 never made it home. The lone survivor was the fire lookout and who was stationed on a nearby mountaintop monitoring the fire and could do nothing as the flames suddenly swept down the mountain and over took his friends.
19 + 1
If you lived in Arizona at the time this tragedy occurred, you remember the horrible day well. People to this day from across the nation still leave a porch light on overnight to honor the 19+1 on the 30th of each month. It continues to be the worst wildfire firefighter loss of life for a single event in the entire nation.
The unit was from Prescott, Az. A makeshift memorial sprang up around their Prescott firehouse shortly afterword. Fire stations from around the world sent shirts from their respective fire squads. Each day new shirts arrived and were placed on a chain link fence surrounding the station house. Letters from children and stuffed animals also arrived. Letters from grieving families too. It was a somber place to visit.
I journeyed up to Prescott a few weeks after the tragedy with my family. We quietly walked around the fence guarding the station and read the name and location of each fire squad shirt hanging on the metal links. We found the shirt sent by our own local fire department. I took a photo of it and later posted it on our fire department's Facebook page, thanking them for their own service and to show them where it was placed on the fence. They were grieving too and thanked us for the photo. We read the letters too. We offered prayers, cried and grieved. There had been a number of rainy days since the fire and the streaked pages looked as if angels from heaven had been crying as well. It felt like hallowed ground.
Tonight I remember the 19 brave Granite Mountain hotshots from Prescott, Arizona and all that their families lost seven years ago. I also remember the one. The lone survivor who has carried the weight and guilt of that fateful day for 7 long years. May the memories of the 19 be blessed and a comfort to their families and friends and may the one live a long, healthy, and joy filled life. May he know he is loved.
Thank you for this deeply moving and very special memorial to the Granite Mt. Hotshots.
I've never lived in Arizona but I remember the story very well. Watching the continuing newscasts, and knowing Oregon teams were there trying to help, even know thinking about firefighters surrounded by a relentless out of control wild fire hunkering down under their flimsy little fire retardant blanket "tinfoil tents" trying to survive as long as they possibly could and praying with all their might not to die but to have some miracle that might reverse or stop the fire's closing in upon them path brings tears to my eyes and a terrible pressing pain of the intensity of profound fear and unimaginable grief that overwhelmed them. Just knowing they would never see their loved ones again and realizing those loved ones would suffer with immense loss because of their own deaths overwhelms me and instantly connects me to those firefighters and that horrific time and loss in time, space, history and a monumental grief point of feelings of loss in our nation.
Thank you for honoring them by never forgetting them, Lovendures, and know at least from me that I will never forget and always be grateful for these brave brave men.
I will say a prayer right now for them, their loved ones left behind and for the one survivor who witnessed it from afar in that lookout tower. I pray he has found a place to indeed live a happy, productive life feeling great love instead of grief and loss and that often profound survivor's guilt. May he be free. May he feel loved. May he feel peace.
I remember. They are all in my heart.
Bless you and your family for your own caring and connecting and honoring of their sacrifice.
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@anita, this is a response to your comments under the "Covid-19..." thread.
Based on my 25 years+ with chronic fatigue and various autoimmune disorders, I'm still learning the hard way to pace myself. So even if I have a good day and have energy, it's still best if I don't do too much that day. It's hard not to do that because when I feel better I want to fit in as much as I can, understanding that tomorrow may be a different story. I want to live my life fully, vibrantly, spontaneously ... I don't want to always have to plan, to be so careful with my time and energy. It can be disheartening. But for me, if I do too much even on a "good" day, I run the risk of crashing and burning the next. "Too much" for one person can be different for someone else. And like Michele reminded us, emotional experiences are also incredibly draining.
I've crashed and burned more times than I can count, and it ain't pleasant. It can take me days, even weeks to get back to my normal state. It's like having some money deposited in a bank account and instead of withdrawing it wisely, I foolishly withdraw the full amount and blow it, with nothing left to fall back on. It takes some time to replenish the coffers. As @michele-b wisely stated, "When the tank is empty we just cannot keep going."
Regarding exercise, even when I am very fatigued I try to do something every day. On those difficult days it's not so much exercise as it is movement -- slow stretching, qigong, a slow walk in nature -- something that moves the energy but doesn't tire you out. I'm talking gentle movements; nothing that will rev up the nervous system. Feel the burn/power-up-training does not work for me! These slow movements may not feel like you're doing much, but it can really help.
Take it a day at a time, my friend. Much love to you.
Thank you. It’s just 11:21 am and I’ve been sitting. I fed one dog, had oatmeal and almond butter, and and thinking what to do and when. Oh, I’ve had a load of supplements. I’m looking at the window to clean before putting the repaired blind back up. I’m thinking what to do beyond that as there is much to do. Watching our Governor have a news conference. At moments I feel hopeless. At others, I think I will be able to do more. I’ve books to read, but focusing is tough. Blue sky and a little warmer would likely help.
im glad you mentioned that you move, rather than feel the burn. I need to remember that.
ok. Off to clean the window. Thanks again to you and Michele for such supportive words.
Anita
@ghandigirl I hope you are well. Know that you are thought of and cared for. Sending you ❤️ And ☮️
Being grounded doesn't mean I never feel demoralized. I can experience periods of intense doubt. I had one such episode yesterday. I was working from home, and had to lie down in bed for a few hours because I felt so uncertain about the future and so oppressed by the magnitude of what I'm trying to do.
Yes, please share the qigong healing walk.
I started to get at this in my response to CC21, but I'm feeling pretty demoralized right now. I've been in a state of low energy since May, and now life seems to be piling on. I have so many accumulating responsibilities I have to see to over the next 2 months, including problems with filing my taxes. Then there are all of the other "extra" responsibilities, like maintaining an exercise routine and making sure I'm getting enough time outdoors in nature (which my body absolutely needs). My health problems are the ever-present shadow. The fact that one of my tumors has grown just adds a whole new burden. The fact that I still don't know what my job and living situation will be by the end of the summer adds a whole other layer of stress too. The stress in the collective isn't making things easier. Perhaps it's only natural that I should feel so insecure while hundreds of millions (perhaps billions) of people in the world are acutely worried about money and personal health.
@coyote. I understand. You are carrying so much both for yourself and for us all. Sending healing energy to you, feeling gratitude for all you have given us.
I hear you. You are "seen".
The weight of the collective is starting to bear down on me too. I was on social media for 5 minutes and got a panic attack, so I had to go lay down with my pets for about 20 minutes, do my Valsalva Maneuver, and calm the f* down enough to get on with my day. One of the things that calmed me was sending a little energy your way. And I haven't been back on to social media since - took the day off.
Everything is spiraling so quickly - it's not even like going down the drain anymore, more like we got flushed down the toilet.
News of the new swine flu in China didn't help. Neither did hearing my husband say he's not too sure he'll be able to hang onto his [military-industrial-complex related] job.
Here's a story you may or may not relate to, if it's not for you, I'm not offended, but maybe there's something in it for you:
About 20 years ago, an old family friend - a college buddy of my mother, was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. He was nearing retirement age, so he stopped working in advertising so he could enjoy what time he had left. They told him he'd be dead in 6-12 months. He made the conscious decision to completely ignore his brain tumor. Every weekday, he would get up, go out, get on the subway and head to Literacy Vounteers, where he would volunteer to teach reading to illiterate adults. On weekends he'd socialize, go to cultural events as he had always done, went on a couple of short vacations with his wife. I remember him telling us that he'd have good days and bad days, that some days he'd be seeing double but would still go volunteer. It gave him purpose. He did this for 5 years. He did die of the cancer, but the point was that he acknowledged the tumor's presence, and then when about his life as if he didn't care about the tumor. He gave it no energy, and even though it did kill him eventually, doctors were astounded. His quality of life was good til right near the end, and he passed quickly and peacefully.
So maybe you should put any tumors and their sizes out of your mind for now and proceed. I'm not saying deny, I'm saying acknowledge and move on.
Much love to you.