Death and the Forest Service

About two years ago, I got an unexpected call from a friend at 2200. He was coming over, he was already on his way, and he was crying.

We sat on the couch together and he brokenly recounted giving his Mom CPR on his living room floor after she had a heart attack. The rest of his family watched as he frantically performed his duty as a first responder, a friend, and a son for 30 minutes until the paramedics came and took her away.

He thanked me for letting him come over and said, "this is the only place I could think of going."

And he just called to see

how Sarah and I were holding up today.

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At the beginning of this month, another friend lost his mother in a car accident. She was driving alone at night, headed home, and for unknown reasons she left the road and flipped her car. The first person on the scene was a friend of mine, an EMT and Forester...it happened outside of his house.

This story tore me up even though I didn't know her personally. They would always wave when you drove by their house, accompanying it with hearty smiles. They had no idea who I was, but I knew them.

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Two weeks ago we had a District meeting and everyone gathered in the Silver Valley. The meeting went like meetings go and everyone was driving back to Coeur d'Alene. I was driving home and passed a tow truck dragging a Forest Service rig behind it...one that was obviously involved in a rollover. I pulled a u-turn and followed it into the station...shaking by the time I got there. I had no idea if it was someone I knew, if everyone was alright, if it happened on the way back from the valley...I knew nothing except there was a totalled FS vehicle. Little was known at that time, and little is still known as it's under investigation...but thank the Lord, no one was hurt. They went off a Forest road and were caught by a tree after what looked like a couple rolls. This was no simple accident.

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On Monday of this week, I came in from the woods to news of a senior volunteer who worked on the silver valley side passing. It was about as brutal a way to here about someone as you can think, a gossip session was occuring at our front desk: "Did you hear about ____? He died this morning. Well, he shot himself this morning."

He had worked late on Friday taking care of the grounds around the office. He walked around the office after everyone had gone home and left notes for people. "Thanks for always making me feel like one of the family." "Here's my pocketknife, I know it'll be in good hands. Goodbye." Monday morning rolled around and he got in his car, drove to Shoshone medical center, and took his own life in his cadillac.

This was the guy who worked diligently and quietly, but always had a smile and a smartass comment for his friends. He would come to after-hours District parties and take photos of everyone...he left at the age 78.

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I got out of the shower this morning and found Sarah trying to make the bed. She was crying hard enough to make her body shake. She had thought the alarm on her phone was going off, but it was a coworker who told her a good friend of hers had passed away this morning of a heart attack. This woman with, "such a kind heart" had called out to her husband for help around 0300 when she had trouble breathing. He performed CPR after calling 911, but she passed before they arrived.

Her husband works in my office and we've all spent time together, inside and outside of work. They sent his crew home.

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I was strong this morning. I was empathetic, compassionate and caring...but I didn't know what to do or say. I think I probably had an aloof attitude, professional one could say...but it hadn't really hit me yet. It's definitely been building on me all day as I almost lost it this morning talking to my friend, who called from Arizona, because he had heard a rumor. He called me because he knew Sarah and this gal were close. He wanted me to give his condolences to Sarah and to see how I was holding up.

When the word came into the office it was spread around like wildfire under an irregular wind. Gossip.

The attitude of some people really surprises me. How can they be so nonchalent about death? Death of a coworker? Death of a friend? Death of a family member?

I've noticed that after each of these events I'm having some dark days. My mind wanders, I can't seem to focus, I get lost in the world of my subconscience thought. After the incident on Monday I drove for about an hour and a half after work...I don't remember half of it. I've had to go outside on numerous occassions today when my eyes well up, I don't want folks here to see me cry.

Am I too sensitive? Have other people had enough experience in this realm to know how to handle it / themselves under the news that hits with that kind of force? I find myself thinking a lot about people close to me and I fall further and further into despair. These latest events occurred to people I knew through others...they were not close friends, yet I react like they were.

The Forest Service is a family. Every day we come together under the same mission and band together in good times and bad. It's interesting to be able to go to a different town, start talking about the Forest Service and have someone ask if you know so-and-so. More often than not, you do know that person or you know of their name and possibly even the places they worked. My current boss worked with my Dad back when I was a really little guy in Kamiah. I cut my teeth in the agency on a District that had groomed other people I now work with. Countless people know my folks, and now work with me. They remember me as a little kid, and I'm sure in some way they all helped raise me.

Growing up, I was always more comfortable with adults than with a group of kids. I had grown up knowing they were around...looking after me. I remember the relief I felt at scout camp, when I was scared to death and had no clue what was going on, to see a man in a Forest Service uniform. Even as a 13-year old, I went up and talked to him because I knew he would understand me. He didn't know my folks like I expected he would, but he offered to make up a care package when he got back to town and send me some steaks. (The food up there was awful.) The care package didn't pan out, but the fact that this guy, this STRANGER in a uniform would instantly offer to help a little boy out was enough. His name was Bill Terrill (ironic because it was the same name as a guy I worked for tending fields and horses.)

It's hard to see your brothers and sisters in pain. It's hard to not know what to do or say, but sometimes it's enough for them to know where to find you if you are needed. Anyone in this agency will drop what they're doing to help you, no matter what the weather is doing, no matter what time it is, no matter what the job is. They'll even take a break as a Type 3 Incident Commander, in Arizona, after hearing within hours of a death in our family, to see if you are alright.

It's quite a thing.