FIRE widow Jeanette Meyran squeezed Eugene Stolowski’s hand as he lay motionless in his hospital bed.
Stolowski, horribly injured in the “Black Sunday” fire in The Bronx, opened his eyes.
“I introduced myself and said my husband, Curt, would want me to be here,” Jeanette painfully recalled yesterday from her Malverne, L.I., home.
“The brave young man tried very hard to speak but couldn’t. He blinked his eyes, and tears streamed down his cheeks.”
Jeannette, whose husband, Lt. Curt Meyran, perished in the Jan. 23 blaze, walked outside the hospital room – and her knees gave way and she collapsed to the ground.
Talking about Curt, Jeanette, a vivacious brunette, alternated between laughing at the moments she shared with him during the last 18 years and crying over her loss.
“It was a fun ride. Every day was an adventure with Curt. He was a superman and a hopeless prankster,” she said.
“We used to call this house ‘the Cracker Jack palace.’ Now it doesn’t feel quite real. Without him, for the first time, I feel vulnerable. Like other widows of firemen, I don’t know how I’m getting through this.
“We sometimes call his cellphone just to hear his voice.
“My bed is now crowded,” she said. Her daughters, Angela and Danine, and schnauzer Bingo all sleep there. “For two nights after Curt left us, Bingo knew something was going on, and you could hear him quietly whining, as if he was crying.”
I shook hands with Lt. Meyran’s son, Dennis, 16, a handsome, well-built teenager who used to lift weights and work out with his dad.
“Like all of us, he has his bad moments, too,” said Jeanette of her son. “He has grown up overnight and, as everyone has said so much, he is now the man of the family.”
Then there was pretty little Angela, 10, and Danine, 6.
“Angela asked me who was going to give her away when she got married now that Curt has gone, and little Danine told her, ‘I would love to give you away,’ ” Jeanette said with a laugh.
“These last days since that Bronx fire have been so damn sad.
“Dennis told me, ‘Mom, I know this is a test for us all. We will all see him again.’ These days have been filled with laughter and tears, lots of laughter and lots of tears.”
Firefighter comrade and longtime friend Dominic Vincente, of Engine 80, talked about the over-40 FDNY softball team to which he and Curt belonged.
“Curt was a lefty and could he hit the hell out of that ball. He was the first baseman and fast . . . I can’t tell you how fast he was.”
Jeanette added, “He had hands of gold.”
Then she recalled how she heard about the tragedy.
“It was the blizzard, and I walked through that snow to shop and was coming back,” she said.
“I called Curt on his cellphone. There was no answer. Then Dennis called me and said there was a man from the Fire Department who said that dad was injured.
“In the old days, they would always send the fire chaplain if anyone had been killed. Not now. And I asked him if he was a priest. No, he was a captain.
“So I thought he was just injured. We didn’t go to the burn center, so I thought that’s good news, and then I got to the hospital and knew. I can’t remember what was going through my mind, but I asked to see him. He looked like he was asleep, and I remember saying that he looked very tired.”
I pray that it won’t happen, but I know deep down, there will be other firefighters who look like they are sleeping and look like they are very tired.
Such a shame that some of our bravest citizens should have to give the ultimate sacrifice – while we’ll all forget about this until the next time.