Three years ago today, I got a phone call from my husband saying a fellow brother and firefighter mentor had died while fighting the same fire he was on. It was a brief conversation, one that literally took my breath away. And one that still haunts me today. It was a hot day, much like today's forecasted high of 104. I had taken the P's to the lake to ride their bike and trike across the dam. But the heat was too much and we gave up pretty quickly. Oddly enough, the picture I took of that little bike ride is on my very first blog post. Kris called as I loaded our girls into my SUV. I automatically drove to firestation number 8, or 8's, Tony's station and what is now Kris' station. My husband is an emotional person, but sometimes he is very difficult to read. Our girls were very young at the time, 2 & 31/2 and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. He seemed like he wanted to be with his brothers, so I left after a short visit. Hindsight of course tells me ...