THE SMOKE WOULD NOT LEAVE HER TEDDY BEAR

Dear Delyara, I’m a firefighter. Last night we pulled a family out of a burning apartment. The mother and two children survived. The father didn’t. One of the little girls kept screaming for her teddy bear, so after the fire was controlled, I went back and found it under what was left of her bed. The bear was wet, blackened, and smelled like melted plastic and smoke. At the station, I washed it three times in the utility sink. Soap. Hot water. More soap. The water kept turning gray. The smell stayed. I sat there at two in the morning scrubbing a child’s toy while the rest of the crew ate pizza in the next room. I knew the bear could never be clean again. I also knew the girl would ask for it. This morning, I put it in a clear plastic bag and took it to the hospital. She hugged the bag to her chest without opening it. I have seen burned houses before. I had never understood until today that sometimes grief is a child choosing the damaged thing because it is the only thing the fire did not take completely.