I'd just logged on a bit ago to write about something, but as I started to compose my thoughts, a particular song came on the radio. It was one of those songs. I'm pretty sure that we all have one or two--or many. I'm talking about the songs that are so inextricably linked in our mind with a certain memory that just hearing the song brings back the event in our minds--sometimes even the sounds and smells of the event.
Well that just happened to me. The song was "Long, Dark Road", by the Hollies. It was a favorite of mine back in 1994, and I used to love to play it over and over on the tape deck of my 1986 Ford Ranger. The tape was a gift from Teresa, the woman I was living with at the time.
That song ceased to be a favorite of mine one night when I was at work as a Paramedic for a large city's fire department. My partner George and I were heading back to our station in the wee hours of the night when by dumb luck we spotted that glow in the sky that could only have been one thing--a structure fire. We headed towards it and got on the radio, requesting an engine company response. When we got there, we found a house fully engulfed in flames, with people running around screaming about kids in the house. Word we got was that a babysitter had gone down the street for a few minutes and left two kids asleep inside. Now the house was blazing like a two-story high bonfire.
It didn't take long for an engine to arrive on scene and the firefighters went in. Sure enough, they were out quickly with two limp bundles--two little boys, one two years old and the other just over a year. George grabbed one and I grabbed the other and we went to work to try to get them breathing again. We called for another ambulance but none were available. Fortunately one of our supervisors showed up and as soon as she saw what we had she jumped into the cab of our rig and drove to the hospital while George and I each worked on one of kids, trying everything to keep their hearts beating. I remember the siren screaming and that truck lurching and jolting over the potholed city streets as we passed equipment meant for one patient back and forth, trying frantically to buy those kids just a few more minutes.
But the smoke had done it's work too well, and we first one, then the other child went flat-line--they both died enroute to the hospital.
Now I've seen people die before. Lots of 'em. And I can truthfully say that with rare exceptions, it doesn't get to me. But kids are different. You can't watch a little kid die and not be affected. It's just not supposed to happen. This time, it hit me as I was cleaning the back of the truck out--literally sweeping out the little bits of charred flesh. I just started singing that song for whatever reason.
It's over, well over,
In my mind and in my heart.
It's over, well over.
But then again, it didn't have a good start.
I sang it loud as I worked to remove every trace of the two children. Then I sang it louder, until I was literally screaming out the words in the back of that ambulance in the bay of that hospital.
It's over, well over.
And we can't revive what's past.
It's gone now, moved on now.
But then again, it didn't have a chance to last.
I just couldn't stop singing that song as I worked to remove every last trace of those two kids from the back of our rig. Over and over, I sang that song and swept out little bits of blackened skin and other debris from that run.
Now, it's a long, dark road.
It's a long, dark road.
And you know I love you.
Yes, you know I love you.
Eventually our Captain showed up to check on us, like he always did when he knew his crews had been on a scene like that. He put us out of service and told us to just take the rig back to the firehouse and go home. I'd finished cleaning the truck and stopped singing by that time so I know he didn't hear it. Maybe someone at the hospital told him, or maybe someone there told him how George had gone inside and called his own home and gotten into a loud argument with his wife when she wouldn't wake their kids up and put them on the phone at 2:30AM. Of course George couldn't tell her why he wanted to hear their voices, just like I couldn't tell Teresa why I was home a few hours early. Some things you just can't talk about for a while.
And I'll never forget how a couple of days later, as we drove up to her place in the country, she put that tape in and that song came on. She was pretty upset when I grabbed the tape out of the player and threw it out the window. It was a long time before I could tell her why.
And you know I love you.
Yes, you know I love you.
Every now and then I hear that song and it takes me right back there to that night. It all comes back, and my eyes never fail to tear up just a bit. But I can never turn it off. And I found myself softly singing along again, just like I always do. And after all these years those two kids still won't go away.
That got me crying good.
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