First responders gathering to honor Kandace Kritz's life, service

The 20-year veteran operations supervisor for American Medical Response (AMR) will be honored Friday at 1 p.m. with full honor guard services reserved for deaths occurring in the line of duty. First responders across state and agency lines will attend the memorial service. The service is at First United Methodist Church.

Technically an “essential worker,” Kritz was remembered as instead seeing those around her as being the essential ones. Thanks to her work ethic and reputation for putting others first, those who served with Kritz affectionately dubbed her their “mamma bear.”

“She was our mamma bear because she was our senior, she always took care of us,” Joe Meligan, one of two interim supervisors filling in after Kritz’s sudden passing, said. “She was very personable, she made sure she took care of the crews and that the community was safe – that was mamma bear, old mamma bear. She was mamma bear to everybody in EMS. When she passed away, we didn’t lose a boss. We lost a friend. Kandace gave her entire life to serving this community. That meant filling in weekends, holidays and always putting the community first.”

Interim supervisor Matt Hardwick added that Kritz was supposed to retire in 2019. Hardwick serves with Meligan.

“There’s normal standards, and then there’s Kandace standards,” he said. “She wouldn’t leave the company in need during COVID. She saw personal family and friends in this community and literally drove herself to death doing this job.”

Meligan said Kritz was OK with that.

“That’s what she wanted,” he said. “It wasn’t like it was a burden on her. She knew exactly what she was doing and this was her passion. She put EMS first, she put the citizens first, she put the community first — always.”

Hardwick explained that Kritz continued working from home in the early days of the pandemic, just to “keep things going,” or as Meligan put it, “keep the wheels turning.” In the perpetual miracle-machine behind emergency medical response, Kritz knew every cog, every wheel and every lever.

Hardwick said making a difference in someone’s life was Kritz’s whole life’s mission, and what they’re trying to honor.

“We want to say that she did, not only for workers and patients, but also their families. She had a personality that allowed her to interact with anybody, no matter who or how they were. She was the type who would hold every patient’s hand. People assume patients just need some sort of medicine, but a lot of times they need comfort. (Kritz) went above and beyond the actual scope of her job and treated everybody like a human being,” he said.

“Her heart. It was because of her heart. She never judged anybody,” Meligan said.

Hardwick added Kritz was the reason AMR is in the area and that residents received the service they have due to her.

“That’s what we’re trying to honor and respect,” he said.

He contended that COVID-19 was not what the first responder community was focused on in the wake of Kritz’s death. Instead, Hardwick said that Kritz’s remarkable life drove the need to honor her as a fallen mentor and friend.

“It’s not about COVID, which just cut (her life) short. We all go out with risks, and COVID never changed us much, it just changed how we interacted with people. It was just another risk of the job, but we’ve lost 30 percent of the field since COVID,” he said. “Kandace refused to quit, she refused to be lost, and we ultimately lost her because of it. But this isn’t about her death or how she died. This is about her life.”

Meligan added that Kritz was more interested in setting a standard of excellence than being recognized for herself. Hardwick and Meligan agreed that maintaining “Kandace’s standards” was the most challenging task before them.

“But we plan on doing that,” Meligan said. “Not just plan, we will. We will do that.”

Hardwick added, “This lady would wake up at five in the morning, go home 10 at night, eat something, then work all night long. Let’s put it this way — it’s taken two of us to replace one of her, it takes two of us to split her duties. We owe her gratitude and thanks for everything she did. We just lost a leader in the EMS community and now there’s a hole. Now we have a station full of employees who feel lost without her.”

Meligan compared Kritz’s passing to throwing a stone in a pond, watching the ripples of Kritz’s absence spread over everything and everyone she touched.

“How do you tell someone ‘thank you’ who gave their life to a community? Like, how do you do that? We’re just gonna try, in our way, to say ‘thank you’ to a person who gave Christmases, birthdays and their life to this community,” he said.

Hardwick compared dying from an illness within the medical field to a police officer killed in the line of duty.

“It doesn’t get the same attention, but that’s what happened,” he said. “We all risk our lives, never knowing if we’re coming back home or not and Kandace went to work knowing that, too.”

Hardwick added that it didn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done and caring for the people they served.

“We don’t have big shootouts where we jump in front of the bullets,” Meligan said. “But Kandace did, she really did jump in front of the bullet. It just doesn’t happen as violently as a police officer confronting an active shooter, or a firefighter falling through a burning roof. But Kandace did fall through the burning roof, she did jump in front of the bullet, and she didn’t have to. But she wouldn’t go out any other way.”