Boy Meets Girl

The crowd in the middle of the club tried to rush the rear door, but the security guard/bouncer blocked the rear exit saying it was just for the band. I heard screams, horrible, horrible screams that got louder than the band at 140 decibels. The band moved off the stage and appeared to exit one of the side doors. If anyone was making announcements, they were drowned out by screams.

I could not move - I was still trying to reach her, but the momentum was pushing me towards the front exit. I desperately wanted to protect my girl from this evolving horror, and I saw that she was desperately trying to move in my direction as the flames were everywhere! I saw panic in her eyes. I couldn't help her! I need to put my arms around her and carry her to safety. When I looked up again, I couldn't see her - the girl of my dreams. Maybe we were separated by 25 feet, but the movement of the crowd pushed her back as I was pushed forward. I was trying to move as this part of the crowd attempted to get out of the front door.

I was desperate to find her and lead her to safety, but she was so petite and disappeared into the crowd around her. I was still trying to reach her, but I was now closer to the front of the club with hundreds of people trying to get out of one standard sized door. Then, the venue hit the flashover point and the gases exploded into a wall of flames. I realized I had at best 10-15 seconds to get out alive and I threw myself at a window as a piece of flaming, molten insulation hit my head, dripping down to ignite my clothes. I could not break the windows but someone on the outside smashed the large window with a tire iron and those of us nearby escaped through a now larger opening. About thirty people escaped through the opening and the wall of bodies around me somehow slowed the progression of flames on my burning clothes. I was out, but the influx of fresh air makes the fire even worse.

I looked everywhere for her and even tried to push back into the building, but it was a wall of flames. She was the shortest person in the building and may have gotten crushed in the mass of people headed for an exit. I could hear the sirens in the near distance and the building was fully engulfed. As the first engine arrived, the roof of the building collapsed. I knew, anyone who was still in that building, I cannot even say it today, was dead. There would be no more survivors that night.

I had been out of the building for less than a minute when my heart and soul exploded. At that very moment, I felt it - I felt her life - I felt her hand in mine - until I felt it slip away, and then I was lost! I did not understand the feeling, but I thought I felt her die! I did not notice my burns - I just felt my life had ended. I kept trying to return to the now burning pile that was once "The Station" club.

As the fire equipment arrived, I moved around the building as far as I could. I was badly burned - some second, some third degree, but my overall burns were not as severe as many of the survivors. Some folks who escaped the building would not survive the night - the liquid flames falling from the ceiling would take its toll.

I was still desperate to find her. Multiple times first responders directed me away from the building. No EMS folks intercepted me as I tried again to wander near the collapsed debris, so I had still had no idea of the severity of my injuries. I only knew that my life was on a magical trajectory 20 minutes ago was now a burning pile of misery - like the night club in front of me.

Finally with the view of the now incinerated club in front of me, an EMT who just arrived from a town in Connecticut grabbed me, quickly assessed my condition, and took me to a police van to transport me to an area hospital some distance from the club for treatment. Every available ambulance in a seventy-five miles radius was dispatched to the scene. The critically burned were transported to Boston's larger hospitals once stabilized but I am sure some of them died from either their burns or smoke inhalation.

When I arrived at a hospital about thirty miles from the club, the triage assessment of my burns was they were not life threatening. The doctor reviewing the condition of the patients decided to re-route me to another hospital that could treat my injuries more quickly as I was about #12 in line at this trauma center. An ambulance that just arrived with another victim offloaded their patient and was asked to transport me to a hospital across the state line in Connecticut. They did administer more pain medication and tried to sedate me so I could not look at my wounds.

After arriving at the new hospital and awaiting treatment on a table in their ER, I could see a TV outside the treatment room. A local TV station was showing scenes from tonight's fire at 3:30 in the morning. I could not see much due to my angle of view and the burns to my face, but the words spoke of the horrific event.

"Authorities say that at least 80 people are dead and more than 175 are reported to have been admitted to local hospitals." Later reports were more distressing - "We now have official confirmation of at least 90 dead and more than 200 suffering from extensive burns over their bodies".

Reporters spoke about the stress on healthcare facilities from West Warwick to Boston and of the assistance offered by hospitals across the region. Local folks were told not to go to area emergency rooms that night because of the number of critically wounded patients. Some of most critically injured were airlifted to hospitals as many as one hundred miles from the club. While "life flight' helicopters were available, they were not as prevalent as they are today.

It would take days to determine that the loss of life was one hundred souls. Newspapers published partial lists of those known to have perished but I looked at the lists but did not even know her name! How could I be so stupid not to have demanded that she repeat her name until I heard her clearly.

My treatment commenced but it was again time to mitigate the intense pain from the burns. It does not take long for severe burns to result in pain impossible to tolerate. Narcotics did reduce my physical pain, but the pain in my heart was more than I could bear.

My life, if I survive this, what kind of life could it be? Am I going to be 'forever marked' by this event like other victims? Who might be sadder - the survivors or those that lost loved ones tonight? Was I both - losing a woman I had known for 75 minutes? I already knew that answer was YES!

I would be there for the next 17 days for burns to my face, head, arms, chest, and legs. Fingers on my left hand were amputated as globs of burning foam had torched all the layers of skin and the periosteum lining of the bones that fed nourishment to the fingers. Arm and leg muscle damage was bad - impact on muscles and ligaments would reduce both my mobility and strength. By Day eighteen, the hospital moved me to a rehabilitation facility and, by day thirty-six, the hospital released me to go home.

I would get to know five or six of the area hospitals over the next two years returning for debridement of wounds not properly healing and additional skin grafts as well as more physical therapy. Months later we were still dealing with wounds that would not heal. I would never again have a "head of hair" or eyebrows. My external ears were only small remnants of cartilage and grafted skin. My lips were thick after reconstruction since more than 70% of the actual tissue had burned. My job was gone by the time I was healthy enough and I initially survived on disability checks. I moved back in with my parents until I could find a job that I could do with one hand.

I had to determine if I could live independently and leased a small apartment close to my sister. My parents - bless their hearts - found it exceedingly difficult to deal with my burns and disabilities. My mother cried every time she saw me for almost two years. My older sister was my angel, but I did not 'over-use' her saintly nature. I used the fingers on my right hand to turn the key to my apartment for the first time. It was a good start.

I found a hard chair to sit down. My leg strength was not good, so I took a deep breath and practically fell on the chair. I was smiling - that simple act made me realize I could be independent. Then, I made the mistake of turning on the television. Every station was discussing that the first anniversary of the fire was approaching and reporting some of the findings of its cause and where the responsibility had been laid. As close as these communities are, everyone knew someone who died that night or was severely injured.

My burns would heal - healed is a relative term. No one would recognize the new me. Even good friends were shocked when I said hello after 6 months of treatments. My heart knew I would never be the same. I was 27 years old and mourning the loss of the woman I had spent 75 minutes with, and during those minutes my smile never left my face. Now, it was impossible to smile because of my burns, but also because I lost my will to live. I still felt that deep shame again - "I didn't even know her name"!

February 20, 2004 - January 31, 2023

My soul was aching - but I was now back to work. I had a city/county job. My tech experience helped me get this position, but it was the decency of our community that assured me respectable work. Rhode Island pulled together for the victims. Yes, I knew I was hideous to look at but there are so many of us, it became commonplace. We are smart people too - folks knew enough not to talk about how sorry they were for us! It was more important for them to look us straight in our eyes without looking away. I could recognize an 'out-of-stater' immediately when they looked away or tried to change their path. I appreciate now what a privilege it is to grow up in this state.

There are still times when you would meet someone new, and they did not know how to respond. I have seen more than one or two whose eyes fill with tears seeing my wounds. At least my parents have come around and can accept me as I am without tears. My younger sister has a tough time with my physical appearance, but my older sister is still my rock.

I gradually attempted to rejoin the social scene with help. A couple of churches started social programs to assist those of us still struggling. In early 2009, I met my future wife through one of these church functions. She was another victim of the fire and, like me, was almost desperate to have some form of normal life. We socialized as much as we could over 18 months before we decided to get married. We had a church ceremony just before Thanksgiving 2010. Social lives were difficult as we both need wheelchairs to get around. Unfortunately, our lives together lasted less than six years. Her death occurred in February 2016, just after the 13^th anniversary of the fire.

Her death was due to complications of pneumonia - an ailment that sort of connects the folks injured in that fire. Fire scarred lungs do not work very well when you catch a bad cold or flu. I still miss the connection to another individual as my wife was a caring person until her health failed and life became more difficult.

As I mourned her passing, I feared my sadness was more about me than her departing this earth. I just keep hoping that our Christian beliefs of an afterlife are true, and she is now resting comfortably within the presence of a loving God and can breathe again without pain.

My life would change again, not for the better, as I became more of a recluse without someone to share my day or just small talk. I did find myself talking to the mirror often - gosh that guy looking at me is brilliant, and sarcastic as hell. I got to laugh at my own jokes - not much of a life, is it?

My 18 months of near total isolation became possible as a growing business trend allowing some workers to complete their work from home. I welcomed the work from home option and made sure I never missed a conference call and was even on everyone's computer monitors during Skype calls.

After 15 months of the work from home option, I was beginning to feel more like a charity case than a contributor to our business. My boss knew my thoughts and kept assuring me that I was still as valuable as I had been before the fire. Yes, my company re-hired me about eight years after the fire.

My 'rock', my older sister, worked to pull me out of my deep funk again. Her husband and kids tried to tolerate her frequent absences and when they could no longer put up with frequent overnights at my home, they put her on final notice.

I did not want to be around a person whose life was miserable, so I demanded that she leave one late afternoon and not come back for six months. I expected a fight, but she knew her marriage was in trouble and just left. We still spoke to each other most days around 5pm but kept our calls short. I am happy to say she is still married, thank God!

I cannot say that time flew by - time kind of limped along just like me. Over the past two years my muscles, impacted by the fire, began to weaken and I became almost fully reliant on my wheelchair when I go out. The pandemic, when it struck, leveled the work playing field for me and helped elevate my image as I started presenting tutorials on ways to successfully work on projects and interact with team members without being in the office. That alone assisted in at least accepting my future, but I knew a date was looming that would tear off my patchwork of emotional bandages as the 20^th anniversary of the event approached. At least, the pandemic had eased. As I was a high-risk individual, I feel like I was vaccinated and "boosted" almost every 90 days.

February 2023

You could not avoid it! Newspapers and other media had started about 10 days ago recapping the night of the fire. Another generation had joined the world and the 2- to 15-year-old folks then were now in the mainstream of life. Most families sheltered them from the brutal descriptions of that night and now they were learning the names and stories of folks who perished that night. West Warwick built a beautiful memorial to the victims of the fire. I can't go there - 100 names there - one of them is probably her.

The media were kind and many touching stories about the lives of the deceased appeared in our paper or the noon local news for the major TV networks. Even FOX found a way to tell kind stories without making it a political issue.

I saw every story live or by looking at the on-line segments leading up to this day before the anniversary. I looked at every detail of the names that appeared, but they only reflected stories of about fifteen victims because many families would not give their permission. Even today, it hurt the families too much! The victims were brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers lost to families at such a young age.

I went through every story, every article, and, of course, now everyone has internet access - less common at the time of the fire. I spend all my idle time reviewing every piece of background material shown online, other than Facebook. Facebook postings and responses were people you could tell were not within fifty miles of the club that night, especially the ones using the 20^th anniversary as a "Go Fund Me" request.

I never saw a person named as a casualty that night that matched her description or my faint recollection of how to pronounce her name. I wondered if my issue now was because I did not need confirmation - my heart told me that night that she had died. I got sadder and sadder thinking about her.

But what if she did not? Just after the tragedy, I used part of my disability money to hire a PI firm and they offered a quick survey but told me after the first day that they did not have enough to go on. Could she have been one of the people who walked out before the flames engulfed the building?

No, I saw her fear as the flames spread. She did not have my contact information either. Is it possible that was she one of the people who survived but have no real life - just surviving by eating and drinking and labored breathing.

As I swung into my bed that night, I started shaking - it was my emotions run amuck! I cannot do it - I cannot go there tomorrow, too many bad memories but there was still one beautiful memory that has carried me through life for the past twenty years!

I broke down - physically, mentally, and spiritually. I had lost my health, lost my ability to overcome my sorrow, and I lost my connection to God. How could he let this happen. I had continued going to church with my wife when we were both healthy, mostly for her benefit. I don't hate God - but I can't go to Church and pretend I believe the words of the preacher or words printed in books based on words before paper even existed.

February 20, 2023

I woke up early - my sleep filled with nightmares last night still left me unsettled. But I had planned today with my older sister and she and her husband were taking today off to help me attend the memorial service. They arrived right at 8:00am and offered to take me out to breakfast. They both know that breakfast is my favorite (and sometimes only) meal of the day. We drove in my handicap equipped van allowing me both access and the ability to drive. The stuff I needed for today was packed last night.

Breakfast over, we headed over to the park where the event would take place. As I drove, my sadness began to over-power me. Twenty years ago today, my real life ended! I wanted so badly to become the son, brother, and friend I used to be. Today, I would try to let go - let go of the dream of happiness, let go of the pain of my condition, let go of the fear of trying to live again might do to my damaged psyche and soul.

I brought flowers to lay at the site. Along with the flowers, I brough along over 500 letters I have handwritten to my love - all naming her 'A rún mo chroí' - Gaelic for my heart's beloved, my darling.

Those letters are the vestiges of the real me - a kind, generous man - using words that I don't think I have ever said to a woman on earth. I mention us getting married, our beautiful kids, the beautiful home we built, and our friends all over the world. The last one was written last night - I asked her to be strong - I could not go on. . .

I still desperately want to be able to mention her name. I have tried the top 30 Irish girls' names, but none seemed to fit. All I recall is Ssirrrsh. My cell has the Amazon Music app so I figured I could relax a little listening to it before the ceremony begins. I had special plans for that one song. My sister and brother-in-law are here with me. She knows the real reason for the speakers I added to my wheelchair. She told me that, after today, no more painful thoughts back to that night and no more searching for HER.

I still enjoy working, I had to take today and tomorrow as vacation days. I cannot travel on my own so it is not like it will hurt my future vacation plans. I prefer to work as it makes 6 to 8 hours a day productive instead of reflecting on my personal situation. In the last year I have become more open with my co-workers and even have two that I consider close friends. They indicated that they would join me today to help me get closure on the event that has left me 'half a man' for too long.

When we (my sister, her husband, and I) arrived in West Warwick, I could see that the crowd would be large for this event. There were bouquets of flowers everywhere - about 150 people are here already for an event scheduled in about 90 minutes. As I looked around, it was easy to see that so many of these people had been there that night - their scars told their stories!