Mourning a loss

Lt Brenda Cowan, 40, Lexington's first black female firefighter, will be laid to rest today. Thousands of firefighters from around the area are expected to attend her funeral, as she is given full honours.

Lt Cowan, an EMS responder, was shot on Friday whilst responding to a domestic violence call. A man claiming alien clones had taken over shot his wife, Lt Cowan, and another firefighter and kept the police at a standoff for several hours. The man's wife and Lt Cowan were killed; the other firefighter was injured.

Cowan had been promoted to Lieutenant on the Tuesday before her death, and Friday was her first full-duty day since the promotion.

Today we had a special election for our Congressional Representative (since the former holder is now our governor), and I vote at the fire station nearby. It was a little eerie to see the flag at half-mast. It's the first time since September 11th. Citizens have been asked to wear a red ribbon in remembrance, and so I've decided to display one here as well.

It's so scary that your life can be over...like that...because of a loon with a gun. I pray that her spirit, her family, and her co-workers find peace. It's so easy to take our police and firefighters for granted; here in Lexington, it's a particularly sore point because our force is underpaid and there's concern over whether we can keep all services in place and retain gifted officers and fighters. It's also a shock because of the manner of her death; in the history of Lexington, three firefighters have died: one fell off a truck whilst responding to a fire, one was trapped in a burning house, and now Lt Cowan. Mind you, the first death was only in 1987--all have happened during the time I've lived here, in the grand scheme of things, a very short time. I guess we've been rather lucky. But it's causing people to rethink response policy and other procedures to see if the system can be improved to prevent further deaths. I'm glad they're doing that.

But today, it'll be long processionals, bagpipes, and bells, as the city mourns someone who fell in its service.