Chapter 16: Thane

The year was 1990. I was in grade 10. And I lost my best friend Thane Fiebich on July 11. The accident occurred two months earlier when Thane’s family was burning grass on their farm. The winds picked up and they lost control of the fire as it moved in the direction of a large propane tank. Thane’s mother knew they were in trouble and quickly hid the family behind a pickup truck. As suspected, the propane tank became engulfed in flames and exploded. It then landed right on top of the truck they were hiding behind. Thane’s younger brother and sister died instantly. Thane, 95% burned, was rushed to the hospital where he died a couple of months later. Thane’s mother survived, 65% burned, but ended up in a wheelchair and underwent years of rehabilitation. The only one to come out of this without any physical scars was Thane’s father Roland, who was out running errands when the accident occurred. 

I was at home with my friend Fraser when this happened. I remember playing badminton with him in our front yard when we became distracted by a large billow of smoke about ten kilometers away. Commenting to each other on “how cool” the smoke column appeared we didn’t realize we were staring at the destruction of our friend and his family.    

Life is unfair. Shortly after this incident Roland and his wife separated. A few months later, a borrowed, uninsured baling machine burst into flames on his farm and burned up $1000 worth of uninsured grain. Add to this the fact that nine years earlier Roland lost his only other child, a two-and-a-half year old boy who was crushed in a farm gate. The following article from the Edmonton Sun reads like a modern day account of the biblical story of Job.

Roland Fiebich stared into the smoke-blackened sky above his burning New Sarepta barley field and pleaded, “Why, God?”

Fiebich, still reeling after losing his three children in a horrific farm accident May 4, was dealt another brutal blow yesterday.

An uninsured baling machine he borrowed from a neighbour burst into flames – setting the barley field on fire.

“What’s next? It’s one nightmare after another,” said Fiebich.

Before firefighters and neighbors put the wind-whipped blaze out, Fiebich lost more than $1000 worth of uninsured grain on his New Sarepta farm, 40 km southeast of Edmonton.

The tragedy was precluded by the May explosion of a neighbor’s 2,000-litre propane tank, which sprayed mother Debbie Fiebich and the children with liquid fire.

Jessica Fiebich, 7, died almost immediately. Her six-year-old brother Wyatt died in University Hospital the next day.

Thane, 15, died July 11 in the same hospital after his burns became severely infected.

And in 1981, the Fiebichs were shattered by the death of two-year-old Clinton, who was crushed by a farm gate.

But at least there’s something to be thankful for in the latest of these “totally crazy” accidents, Fiebich said bitterly.  

This time no one died.

“Death seems to be something that sticks and follows me around,” he said. “The devil is trying to see how far he can push me,” Fiebich said.

He isn’t sure how much farther that is. At the moment, however, he’s not ready to “go jump off a bridge.”

“There’s a life to lead and a job to do. Somewhere, somehow, there’s got to be happiness out of all this mess.”

If happiness is possible, Fiebich will try to dredge it out of the memories of a cheerful, loving farm family.

“The farm is where the children would have grown up. It’s something the children would have taken over.”

The memories – and his religious faith – help give the empty farm house a sense of home.

However, for his wife, who leaves the Glenrose Rehabilitation Hospital on weekends, coming home gives her more pain than peace.

“One weekend she said to me, ‘the farm isn’t home. The hospital is my home now,’” said Fiebich.^[1]

                         

How does a 16 year old make sense of this? Unfortunately, this is normal for many 16 year olds in many parts of the world. And one doesn’t make sense of it. The randomness of suffering doesn’t make sense. The argument of suffering is the best argument against the idea of an all-powerfully good God. I’m still no closer to an answer on this one and find most attempts to answers it to be less than helpful, especially to those in the midst of suffering.

At my High School graduation I was asked to say some in remembrance of Thane, as he would have been graduating with us. Though my speech is filled the typical clichés of a High School graduation speech, and it contains some things I no longer believe, it reflects my thoughts at the time. The irony of using Thane’s tragedy to give a “nothing-can-stop-you-from-being-whatever-you-set-your-mind-to” speech didn’t occur to me at the time. You can dream as much as you want, but if a burning propane tank lands on your head, all the positive thinking in the world isn’t going to save you.

Thane Roland Fiebich, August 4, 1974 – July 11, 1990. Tonight I would like to take a few moments and reflect on a true friend and role-model to our class. As most of you remember, Thane Fiebich was a part of our class a few years ago and would have been graduating with us tonight. I would have to say that Thane was one of the most respected members in our class. He displayed friendship, compassion, honesty and, most of all, determination. Thane taught me a lot, and when it came to determination he taught me that believing in myself is one of the most important qualities to have. When you believe in yourself it doesn’t matter what other people say or what gets thrown your way, you can make it. Thane’s entire attitude was one of striving to be the best. He showed this not only in the way he talked, but also in the way he walked. I don’t believe people live for nothing; everyone has a reason for their life and a message to teach others. If Thane were here tonight, and was asked to give a final word of advice to his class, I know what he would say. As Thane’s friend I feel honored to have the privileged of passing on his message. If you want to do something, anything, do it. Your only defeat in life is when you convince yourself you can’t. Thane taught me that my life can be filled with dreams that come true, as long as I keep dreaming and keep believing. This message is for all of us: let’s strive forward and prove to this world that the impossible is possible. Let’s allow Thane’s message to live and shine with us for the rest of eternity.

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[1] Roberta Staley, “Hard-luck Family: New Disaster for New Sarepta Farmers” (Edmonton Sun, 1990), 4.

Discussion question: What was the greatest loss you experienced in high school and what impact did that have on you?