| Chris Catanzaro still remembers that cold, frosty night 25 years ago, the night Buffalo’s fire commissioner knocked on his door and changed his life forever.
Even now, he can see his mother collapsing at the doorway and an older brother, his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.
Chris was only 7 at the time but the memories of that night — Dec. 27, 1983 — are as fresh now as they were the night his father, and hero, died in a propane explosion that firefighters still call the “darkest day” in their history.
Five Buffalo firefighters and two civilians lost their lives in the explosion on North Division Street. One of them was Michael Catanzaro, a young firefighter from the Old First Ward.
“Visually, I can still see my mother and brother crying and myself in a daze,” said Chris, now 32.
Twenty-five years later, he can talk about his father, what happened that night and why he and his three brothers — Michael, Marc and Nicholas — all dreamed of becoming firefighters like their Dad. All four have taken the firefighters exam at one time or another.
“He was a hero. He was a public servant,” said Chris, who is on a list of potential new hires in the department. “If I was making a million dollars a year, I would still want to be a firefighter.”
Some might find that hard to believe — sons following in the footsteps of fathers who died in a blast that leveled a city block, injured dozens of other firefighters and killed two civilians.
But not those who grow up as part of the extended “firefighter family.”
“What could be a better testament to their father?” said Michael Lombardo, the current Buffalo fire commissioner. “To go through that and still want to be a firefighter.”
What better tribute indeed. What better way to honor a man who, to this day, is remembered as a loving husband, attentive father and a firefighter passionate about helping others.
Of course, it wasn’t always that simple, and that’s why it is important to remember days like today.
There was a time, not long ago, when Chris wondered why the father he adored, the man he followed around like a puppy dog, was taken from him — and at such a young age.
“Why me? Why us?” he asked. “Why someone who by all accounts was so important to so many people?”
Thanks to an English teacher at Nichols School, his alma mater, he found a way to express his grief through writing. In 1990, at the age of 17, one of his pieces was published in the Fire Department newsletter.
He wrote candidly about that ugly night in 1983, the night he and his brothers, still relishing a Christmas only two days old, learned of their father’s tragic death.
“All that could be heard around the household was a dark, deafening weeping,” he wrote at the time.
Later, he wrote about how his mother, Jean, pulled him aside the night before his Dad’s funeral.
“You are probably wondering,” she asked him, “why Mommy and everyone is crying, huh?”
“Well, because Daddy died,” the 7- year-old answered.
“Yes,” his mother said, “but do you know what happened?”
“No,” Chris replied, “but he will be back soon.”
His Mom paused, tears streaming down her cheeks, and said, “No honey, he won’t be back.”
Chris said he cried every night for weeks but, deep down, he still didn’t understand why his father was gone.
“He was so confused,” his mother says now. “The events of that night just stuck in Chris’ mind. The grief overwhelmed his life for so long.”
Today, Chris will tell you that his father’s death made him and his brothers stronger, more able to cope with life’s tragedies. He also thinks it made him a better father to his own son, now a year old.
“There’s times when it hurts a little more than normal,” he said. “But that’s also good because that pain is proof of how much he meant to us.”
Buffalo’s firefighters will do their part today to remember Catanzaro and the six others who died 25 years ago.
A Catholic Mass commemorating the 25th anniversary of the propane explosion and honoring the people who died in it will be held at 4:30 p. m. in St. Joseph Cathedral on Franklin Street.
The Mass will be offered in honor of Catanzaro and fellow firefighters Matthew Colpoys, James C. Lickfield, Michael Austin and Anthony Waszkielewicz, as well as civilians Jessie Arnold and Alfred “Ajax” Arnold.
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