Joe Radich traced his hand over a name carved into a polished granite wall at Memorial Park on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

The series of black walls may look like nothing more than names and numbers to outsiders. But for people like Radich, they serve as a lasting connection to a loved who gave the ultimate sacrifice in an effort to help others in their time of need.

Saturday marked the annual occasion for families, community members and firefighters across North America to gather to honor fallen firefighters killed in the line of duty, whether through an incident on scene or from occupational illnesses, at the Fallen Fire Fighter Memorial.

Radich’s father, Steven, was one of the 311 firefighters etched onto the Wall of Honor, joining 9,000 others who were more than just co-workers and friends — they were family.

Dozens of other families stood next to Radich, each waiting for their turn to imprint their fallen firefighter onto a piece of paper. In that moment, they carried the weight of sacrifice that their loved ones had lugged along for so long.

“That willingness to sacrifice shows up on every call, whether it’s in the back of an ambulance or in a dark, smoke-filled hallway,” Edward Kelly, general president of the International Association of Fire Fighters, told the audience of thousands. “On days (that) families pray will never come, we show up. We are the help.”

But who helps the helpers?

Firefighters and families who spoke to The Gazette all answered the same way: the helpers.

As a way to give back to his “fire department family,” who has been there in times of celebration and times of mourning, Radich created a charity called Renewing Our Heroes.

The 37-year-old medical professional created the organization to provide alternative medical care to first responders, military and civil service personnel that they would otherwise be unable to afford.

“He really shaped me into the adult I am today. I try to echo in his philosophies and just try to help those in any feasible way that I can,” Radich said. “And it’s not just my father who was that, it’s all these men and women who do live the same lifestyle.”

Others echo those philosophies in their own way.

Sam Dillon, 39, president of the Boston Firefighters Local 718, stressed the importance of making sure that the fire station is more than just a station — it’s a firehouse.

From the ultimate sacrifice to day-to-day traumatic events that don’t always make it on the news, Dillon said the “brutally demanding profession” needs leadership that takes care of their own and makes them feel like they have a second family.

Dillon and others in Boston have taken it upon themselves to take on what he calls the most “pressing” issue facing his colleagues across the country: mental health.

A study conducted between November 2023 and January 2024 found that about 18% of firefighters had general anxiety disorder, 22.8% had depression and 18.2% were at risk for PTSD.

In 2023, the National Fallen Firefighters Foundation told Forbes that an estimated 100 to 200 firefighter deaths are by suicide per yer, double the rate of the general population.

Dillon leans on union leadership to ensure that his firefighters have not only the tools to fight the flames in a burning building but also the resources to deal with the trauma that often comes with it.

This includes several initiatives that bring in mental health professionals and clinicians to support their people.

Healing through music

Some look to music for support.

Chris Stevens of the Orange County Fire Authority in California said one of the firefighters honored Saturday lost their life to suicide due to the “rigors of the job.”

“You can’t unsee the things that we see,” Stevens said.

To many firefighters, Saturday’s memorial serves not only as a time to honor their lost brothers and sisters but also as a way to decompress. This includes Stevens.

The 60-year-old was dressed in an Irish kilt as part of the IAFF Pipes & Drums and Honor Guard for the ceremony. Historically, bagpipes have been a way to honor the dead at Celtic funerals, and the tradition has carried over to firefighter memorials.

And it’s become a way for firefighters like Stevens to heal from the trauma while honoring the lives lost within his “extended family.”

He recalled memories of drinking, dancing and singing along to bagpipes and drums in downtown Colorado Springs from Friday night during the parade on Tejon Street that is part of the festivities for the memorial.

“That’s a big help as well. It helps folks get through difficult times and serves as a way to support each other,” he said.

Stevens said it can take up to a year for someone first starting on the bagpipes or drums before they’re confident to play in the band, which is a collection of firefighters from across the country. And a lot of them don’t have a musical background.

A member for 20 years, Stevens said it takes a long time for the estimated 250-300 pipes and drummers to get on the same page, which he notes is another sacrifice in its own way.

“It’s more time away from families. We will have worked 24, 48, 72 or 96 hours, and then we have a four-hour rehearsal,” Stevens said.

Yet the sacrifice is worth it to Stevens because he is giving back to his extended family, which he’s connected with through this memorial.

“We’ve got great friends from Florida. We have great friends in Boston that we go and spend time with at their houses with their families,” Stevens said. “I can walk into any one of these tents right now and sit down and be welcomed with open arms.”

Building a firehouse

Battalion Chief Brian Stack with the Chicago Fire Department builds his firehouse through laughter, which he said almost always starts in the kitchen.

“There’s usually one guy that cooks, and he’s expected to do a great job. And when he doesn’t, he gets a lot of grief. Well, he’ll get grief no matter what. It’s the laughter, it’s the pranks. A lot of that happens in the kitchen,” he said.

Through silly nicknames for “stupid things” they’ve done to simply cracking jokes, Stack said camaraderie is critical when it comes to building a firehouse.

After you’ve built the home, it makes it easier for people to open up about the “deep-rooted” issues.

Thirty years ago, Stack said mental health wasn’t taken as seriously among firefighters as it is now.

“New guys on the job don’t know how to handle stress, and seeing all the stuff that we see — charred bodies and all,” Stack said. “We can tell when someone’s hurting because you’re literally living with them, so there’s things that you pick up on. And it’s important to just talk when you see those things.”

Michael John Patrick Lynch, 25, lost his father, Mike, from leukemia he contracted while on the job in Chicago.

Like Radich, Lynch spent a lot of time with his father at the firehouse, and he’s grown close to other firefighters because of it.

“Being able to mourn with them has helped. Even today, a lot of his colleagues came up to me and asked how I was. It was incredible to me,” Lynch said. “It’s amazing to me how tight-knit they are.”

Lynch’s father was part of Stack’s firehouse when he died, and Stack has done everything he can to ensure the family was taken care of during the memorial.

According to Lynch, over 2,000 people, many of them firefighters, showed up to his father’s funeral.

“It really does feel like a second family,” Lynch said.

Joe Radich traced his hand over a name carved into a polished granite wall at Memorial Park on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

The series of black walls may look like nothing more than names and numbers to outsiders. But for people like Radich, they serve as a lasting connection to a loved who gave the ultimate sacrifice in an effort to help others in their time of need.

Saturday marked the annual occasion for families, community members and firefighters across North America to gather to honor fallen firefighters killed in the line of duty, whether through an incident on scene or from occupational illnesses, at the Fallen Fire Fighter Memorial.

Radich’s father, Steven, was one of the 311 firefighters etched onto the Wall of Honor, joining 9,000 others who were more than just co-workers and friends — they were family.

Joe Radich, 37, imprints his father’s name onto a piece of paper at the Wall of Honor in Memorial Park. Radich lost his father, Steven, in April 2024 after he was diagnosed with lymphoma he contracted while working as a firefighter after 9/11.

Nick Smith, The Gazette

Dozens of other families stood next to Radich, each waiting for their turn to imprint their fallen firefighter onto a piece of paper. In that moment, they carried the weight of sacrifice that their loved ones had lugged along for so long.

“That willingness to sacrifice shows up on every call, whether it’s in the back of an ambulance or in a dark, smoke-filled hallway,” Edward Kelly, general president of the International Association of Fire Fighters, told the audience of thousands. “On days (that) families pray will never come, we show up. We are the help.”

But who helps the helpers?

Firefighters and families who spoke to The Gazette all answered the same way: the helpers.

As a way to give back to his “fire department family,” who has been there in times of celebration and times of mourning, Radich created a charity called Renewing Our Heroes.

The 37-year-old medical professional created the organization to provide alternative medical care to first responders, military and civil service personnel that they would otherwise be unable to afford.

“He really shaped me into the adult I am today. I try to echo in his philosophies and just try to help those in any feasible way that I can,” Radich said. “And it’s not just my father who was that, it’s all these men and women who do live the same lifestyle.”

Others echo those philosophies in their own way.

Sam Dillon, 39, president of the Boston Firefighters Local 718, stressed the importance of making sure that the fire station is more than just a station — it’s a firehouse.

From the ultimate sacrifice to day-to-day traumatic events that don’t always make it on the news, Dillon said the “brutally demanding profession” needs leadership that takes care of their own and makes them feel like they have a second family.

Dillon and others in Boston have taken it upon themselves to take on what he calls the most “pressing” issue facing his colleagues across the country: mental health.

A study conducted between November 2023 and January 2024 found that about 18% of firefighters had general anxiety disorder, 22.8% had depression and 18.2% were at risk for PTSD.

In 2023, the National Fallen Firefighters Foundation told Forbes that an estimated 100 to 200 firefighter deaths are by suicide per yer, double the rate of the general population.

Dillon leans on union leadership to ensure that his firefighters have not only the tools to fight the flames in a burning building but also the resources to deal with the trauma that often comes with it.

This includes several initiatives that bring in mental health professionals and clinicians to support their people.

Healing through music

Some look to music for support.

Chris Stevens of the Orange County Fire Authority in California said one of the firefighters honored Saturday lost their life to suicide due to the “rigors of the job.”

“You can’t unsee the things that we see,” Stevens said.

To many firefighters, Saturday’s memorial serves not only as a time to honor their lost brothers and sisters but also as a way to decompress. This includes Stevens.

The 60-year-old was dressed in an Irish kilt as part of the IAFF Pipes & Drums and Honor Guard for the ceremony. Historically, bagpipes have been a way to honor the dead at Celtic funerals, and the tradition has carried over to firefighter memorials.

And it’s become a way for firefighters like Stevens to heal from the trauma while honoring the lives lost within his “extended family.”

He recalled memories of drinking, dancing and singing along to bagpipes and drums in downtown Colorado Springs from Friday night during the parade on Tejon Street that is part of the festivities for the memorial.

“That’s a big help as well. It helps folks get through difficult times and serves as a way to support each other,” he said.

Stevens said it can take up to a year for someone first starting on the bagpipes or drums before they’re confident to play in the band, which is a collection of firefighters from across the country. And a lot of them don’t have a musical background.

A member for 20 years, Stevens said it takes a long time for the estimated 250-300 pipes and drummers to get on the same page, which he notes is another sacrifice in its own way.

“It’s more time away from families. We will have worked 24, 48, 72 or 96 hours, and then we have a four-hour rehearsal,” Stevens said.

Yet the sacrifice is worth it to Stevens because he is giving back to his extended family, which he’s connected with through this memorial.

“We’ve got great friends from Florida. We have great friends in Boston that we go and spend time with at their houses with their families,” Stevens said. “I can walk into any one of these tents right now and sit down and be welcomed with open arms.”

Building a firehouse

Battalion Chief Brian Stack with the Chicago Fire Department builds his firehouse through laughter, which he said almost always starts in the kitchen.

“There’s usually one guy that cooks, and he’s expected to do a great job. And when he doesn’t, he gets a lot of grief. Well, he’ll get grief no matter what. It’s the laughter, it’s the pranks. A lot of that happens in the kitchen,” he said.

Through silly nicknames for “stupid things” they’ve done to simply cracking jokes, Stack said camaraderie is critical when it comes to building a firehouse.

After you’ve built the home, it makes it easier for people to open up about the “deep-rooted” issues.

Thirty years ago, Stack said mental health wasn’t taken as seriously among firefighters as it is now.

“New guys on the job don’t know how to handle stress, and seeing all the stuff that we see — charred bodies and all,” Stack said. “We can tell when someone’s hurting because you’re literally living with them, so there’s things that you pick up on. And it’s important to just talk when you see those things.”

Michael John Patrick Lynch, 25, lost his father, Mike, from leukemia he contracted while on the job in Chicago.

Like Radich, Lynch spent a lot of time with his father at the firehouse, and he’s grown close to other firefighters because of it.

Michael John Patrick Lynch and his father Mike Lynch (right) at a hockey game. Courtesy of the Lynch family.

“Being able to mourn with them has helped. Even today, a lot of his colleagues came up to me and asked how I was. It was incredible to me,” Lynch said. “It’s amazing to me how tight-knit they are.”

Lynch’s father was part of Stack’s firehouse when he died, and Stack has done everything he can to ensure the family was taken care of during the memorial.

According to Lynch, over 2,000 people, many of them firefighters, showed up to his father’s funeral.

“It really does feel like a second family,” Lynch said.