|
|
 |
 |
by NICHOLAS CONFESSORE
Firefighter Richard T. Sclafani never got the chance to be married in a church, only to be mourned in one. Nor did the 37-year-old fireman, who died searching for victims in a smoke-filled Brooklyn basement last Sunday, ever have children of his own. But as thousands of friends and fellow firefighters gathered at a Staten Island church yesterday morning, it was clear that Firefighter Sclafani had all the family he needed.
It was almost too beautiful a day to be sad. The bitter winds that had battered mourners earlier this week at the wakes for Firefighter Sclafani and two other firefighters killed Sunday, Lt. Curtis W. Meyran and Firefighter John G. Bellew, had died down. Quiet reigned as pallbearers carried Firefighter Sclafani's coffin past an unbroken line of New York Fire Department unit patches - the Hell Gate Gang, the Swamp Dogs, the House of Rules - into Our Lady Star of the Sea Church, where the sun's bright rays streamed through stained-glass windows, illuminating the plain white walls with gauzy constellations of colored light.
At a ceremony that emphasized the service of the dead to the living, Firefighter Sclafani's mother and sister, his fellow firefighters and top city officials evoked his strength and mercy. They remembered how he left Squad 18, one of the department's most elite units, to join Ladder 103, one of its busiest, so he could be closer to those who needed him. How he rushed to ground zero after the planes hit. How a big, tough guy of few words could do The New York Times crossword puzzle in pen. And how big and happy his eyes got when he visited his beloved niece and nephews.
"I didn't know Richie; never met him," said Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg, recalling his visit to the Brooklyn hospital room where Firefighter Sclafani died last Sunday. "But I saw the look on the other firefighters' faces and knew what kind of man we must have lost." Fire Commissioner Nicholas Scoppetta praised Firefighter Sclafani as "the kind of guy who stepped up to work for other firefighters with families on holidays because he knew that home was where they should be."
He died, the commissioner noted, after running into a burning house where children were celebrating at a birthday party. "Of course he knew there was danger, but of course he was willing to take that risk knowing there were children in that house to save. He was willing to put others before himself."
Firefighter Sclafani's mother remained seated in her pew, flanked by an honor company from her son's firehouse on Sheffield Avenue. His sister, JoAnn Sclafani-Asch approached the pulpit with her husband to read from letters she and her mother had written to Firefighter Sclafani four years ago. She called him her "other half," and described how his unconditional love "is my strength when I am weak."
But perhaps the most revealing eulogies came from the firefighter's professional family, who made up the bulk of the 8,500 mourners who packed the church and lined the snow-edged streets outside. Lt. Louis Rufrano, choked back tears as he described Firefighter Sclafani's all-night poker games and his taste for chewing tobacco and overstuffed sandwiches. He also addressed the siren call of firefighting, of how it draws those who are attracted to danger and to dedication.
"Not all firefighters are saints," Lieutenant Rufrano said. "Then again, no one who knows the job ever said they were. But it would be wise for those who supervise them, both elected and appointed, to remember that they are a breed apart."
"When it matters most," he continued, breaking into tears, "and when everything is on the line, they go where few others would dare."
"Hey Rich, you done good," Lieutenant Rufrano said, addressing his fallen comrade directly, as the congregation rose to a sustained ovation. "Until we meet again brother, you are and always will be the l
 |
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
