Mid-afternoon a neighbor saw smoke, then heard an explosion as flames shot above the trees at my friend’s house. He called 9-1-1, but it was already too late. Fire spread quickly across the top of the house. While he called the owners, firemen gathered. They worked for hours controlling the outbursts of flames until they safely could leave the remnants to smolder for days.
Long after the friends and neighbors departed, my friends stood staring at the ashes of their five-year-old home, their clothes, furniture, family photos and heirlooms. Left with the vehicles they drove and the clothes worn to their shortened day of work, they had nothing to take to stay at their son’s house that night. “It it felt good to be around grandchildren and family,” she told me. But, before they could sleep, they had to stop and purchase toothbrushes, toothpaste, combs, shampoos, hair dryer and something for the end of the day headache.
Friends brought sweaters, slacks and shirts. Being the recipients of “community, friends, church and co-workers so giving and wanting to help is a very eye opening and humbling of the generosity of people. The items given to us that we have not been able to use we have funneled to organizations that help meet the needs of the others,” she told me. They welcomed everything they received including the use of a furnished travel trailer while they sorted through their options, the debris and their emotions.
When the fire finally stopped and the ashes cooled, they returned to find the remnants of the gun barrels and jewelry which might have survived. They knew where to look for the items. Unlike a flood or tornado that swirl items around and away, in a fire everything falls down. Coffee cans in their attic for a future church craft time landed in the remnants of the living room and bed springs dropped into the foundation.
They circled round the metal frame of the golf cart and four-wheeler to the back of the house where their son shoveled ashes into a wheelbarrow with melted tires. Wearing hazmat outfits, they sifted through the ashes, tossing out pieces of exploded mirror and chunks of crumbling dry wall. They found a few tarnished pearls from a necklace, a glass bar that had melted and fused into the rings it held and badly tarnished silver and gold rings and earring. The cost for cleaning and repairing would exceed their value. Only the grandmother’s platinum rings in a metal box shone as new as ever.
So little left, so much to do. First they stopped to be thankful that no one had been in the house and that insurance covered the loss.
A laundry list of paper work, decisions and meetings demanded their attention just when their other son’s family arrived from out-of-state for a visit. They balanced family time with appointments with the fire inspector, the insurance adjusters, a contractor to haul away the ashes and conversations with concerned friends and neighbors. Everyone they knew offered to do something to help them – and they had no place to take anything to benefit from the help.
My friend’s mind swirled with decisions and absorbing the loss. She and her husband had to decide whether to rebuild, buy another building or rent. Making that decision meant shopping for furniture, linens, kitchen equipment, decorations and accessories.
Everyday the housing decision changed, leaving my friend in a mental whirl until she woke up one night realizing, “We lived in a small house; we lived in a large house. We can live in an apartment. All that really matters is that we have each other.”
No magical ending, but a beginning of putting it all in perspective. Having each other, whatever else happened, all the rest is stuff, just stuff. Something to sincerely consider as Christmas parties, presents and gatherings crescendo to the birthday of the one who gave up everything He had, including His life, so that He could invite us to come stay at His house forever.
(Joan Hershberger is a reporter at the News-Times. E-mail her at joanh@everybody.org.)