Life as a Fire Wife - Cynthia Mills writes about her life as the spouse of a South Carolina firefighter. She shares personal stories as a spouse and auxiliary member.
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Mills: Is There a Correct Response to Tragedy?
By Cynthia Mills - Thursday April 18, 2013
Life is so busy, so busy, all the time. With three homeschooled children who are into various activities, a house in which I am determined to finish several unfinished projects, and a husband who works a full-time job, a part-time job, is attending online college classes full-time and still spends every second he can with his family, I feel like we are the epitome of busy. We define it this spring. In the middle of our personal chaos though, tragedies are happening all around our country. These tragedies have affected us little on a physical level. We have paused momentarily to read up on the news of the Boston Marathon and now the explosion in West, Texas . I'm not the crying kind, but I've said many prayers for those affected... -
A Return to College Life
By Cynthia Mills - Friday March 15, 2013When your firefighter comes to you after a 48-hour shift followed by a four-day out-of-state class and another 48-hour shift and says, "I want to go back to college and finish my degree," the correct response is: a) Blind panic that makes you so dizzy that you nearly faint in the dinner you're fixing b) A smile and a stifled squeak of anxiety over the extra burden of time this will impose c) Encouraging words and a promise of support throughout the entire process d) A reverse question of, "What? Now? Why now?" I'd have to say, I experienced all four of those responses when my firefighter came to me with this very request last month. Even though I wholeheartedly support his efforts to continue his education and advance in the fire... -
Burying One of Our Own
By Cynthia Mills - Wednesday December 26, 2012
Burying one of our own…it’s a scenario no department wants to face, but most all departments train for anyways. No amount of training can ever prepare a fire family for the heartache of dealing with a death of their own, especially near the holidays. In our fire family’s case, this Christmas Eve will be spent at a cemetery, lying to rest one of our most beloved and most cherished family members: three-year-old Cade Legend Moyer, the son of one of our lieutenants. This is hard. There are more descriptive phrases I could use, but nothing I could say would convey the magnitude of pain we all feel. As part of one of the most amazing fire families anywhere, we all hurt when one of us hurts this deeply. We all grieve the loss of... -
Daddy, the Tearjerker
By Cynthia Mills - Tuesday October 23, 2012Okay, now he did it. Once again, my firefighter went and left the state for a class. It is only four days, for four different months. This shouldn’t be a big deal. For me, it isn’t. But for our youngest daughter, the softest petal in our family flower, this absence is a universe-quaking, life-altering catastrophic event. Cameron is only 6 years old. She has spent her whole life with her daddy going to the firehouse for shift days. She understands overtime and buddy swaps that may take him away for three days at a time. Add on a day of his second job on his first day away from the firehouse and sometimes it is four days between daddy sightings even when he’s still in town. His current class is only a four-day class. His last... -
The Little Things
By Cynthia Mills - Tuesday September 25, 2012Why should this homecoming be any different from the end of a normal shift? Really, maybe it shouldn’t have. But we tend to get overly excited about the little things in life and so after only four days of being without our fireman, my girls and I were elated that he would be home again soon. My firefighter and two of his crew members spent four days of travel and class time, attending a swift-water rescue course in Tennessee. According to him, it was one of the most physically demanding classes he had ever taken; basically it kicked his butt. But they all did well, had a blast and want to take Level II next summer. My fireman was exhausted and sore in ways he couldn’t describe, but he was also happy to be coming home. While he...
