The haunting sound of bagpipes crept down the hallway and into my bedroom, where I sat at my desk, working. In the living room, the TV was on, and I realized the funeral of firefighter Lt. Michael Davidson was being aired live. He died fighting an early morning blaze on the brownstone set of a Bruce Willis movie in Harlem last week. Out of respect, I left my desk to watch. My son is somewhere in that FDNY formation, standing at attention in full dress uniform, as the wife and four small children of his fallen comrade say goodbye to their beloved at St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue. My son will be at yet another funeral on Thursday. This is a tough week for the department. Three of their own made the supreme sacrifice this month, more than is usual in a year. Such pomp and ceremony attends each sendoff. Jet fighters overhead, wailing bagpipes, the low sirens, a sorrowing backdrop of sound. I sat in front of the TV, holding my worst fears at bay, and I prayed, please God, keep my son safe. Please keep all our sons and daughters safe. Being a firefighter has been my boy's calling since he was nine years old and the Twin Towers came down. And as much as I might wish that he would stay on the medical side of the FDNY, as a paramedic, he is likely to be promoted to fire this year. He already took and passed the written exam and the physical, and his two required years in EMS will be up in July. And so I pray.