Yesterdays, mourners gathered to say farewell to FDNY Lt. Richard Nappi, who died while on the job, battling a warehouse fire in Bushwick, Brooklyn last Monday. Mayor Bloomberg said in a eulogy at Church of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in Rokonkoma, "Firefighting isn’t just an occupation. It’s a vocation, a mission and a passion... To [Nappi's] family members - to his wife and children, Mary Anne, Catherine, and Nicholas; to his father and stepmother, Sonny and JoAnne; to his mother, Regina; and his brothers, Robert and Steven - speaking for 8.4 million New Yorkers, I can tell you that, like you, we’re deeply saddened to lose him. And we’re also incredibly grateful for the 17 years he gave to protecting us, and the greatest city in the world. The place where Rich did that most recently was in one of our oldest and also fastest-changing neighborhoods: Bushwick in Brooklyn."

The fire, at 930 Flushing Avenue, took over 150 firefighters three hours to get under control. Nappi, 47, who grew up in the Bronx and lived with his family on Long Island, succumbed to overwhelming heat and suffered a "cardiac event" while fighting the blaze. He was wearing his full "bunker gear," and FDNY Chief Medical Officer Kerry Kelly explained, "When the firefighters are wearing bunker gear, they're encapsulated. It's very warm. When you add the ambient temperature being so hot, it adds to the burden on an individual."

Fire Commissioner Salvatore Cassano said, "I knew Richard. We worked together in the late ’90s, in lower Manhattan. He’s so full of life and you never forgot him once you met him." Cassano also added that Nappi's nickname was "yappy Nappi" because he was so friendly and outgoing and that during the 1998 Yankees Championship Parade, he and Nappi—both Mets fans—had to put out fires set to confetti by Yankees fans (Nappi had joked, "Let it burn.").

Bloomberg also referenced his own loss when speaking to Nappi's children, Catherine, 12, and Nicholas, 11:

Catherine and Nicholas, I lost my father, too, although at an age when I was a bit older than you are. Still, I think I can understand what you’re feeling now. I can tell you that in my case, as time passed, what remained for my sister, my mother, and me was the wonderful memories we had of a man we loved. I believe that will be true for you, too.

And when you think of your father, I hope you’ll also recall what I’m about to say to you now: that some ten and a half years ago - a time neither of you can remember - your father rushed to the firehouse he was assigned to then, in Lower Manhattan, on the darkest day in our city’s history.

On 9/11 - and then day after day, for weeks on end, like so many others, including your uncle Robert, he worked amid the smoking rubble of the World Trade Center. Those were difficult times for our city, and for the fire department that meant everything to your father.

In the course of one morning, 343 of its members, and decades of experience and leadership, were wiped out. And part of why we’re so grateful for your father is because he was such a big part of rebuilding the world’s greatest fire department over these past ten years.