My kids settled into the new master suite that I had complete. Oh, Thank you, God. I said in my private time. That is why I could not find a renter. I needed to have this free for my kids. My granddaughter settled into her room on the other side of the house. It was familiar to her. She has come to this house all her three years. It was familiar to my daughter she was brought home to this house. My home became their sanctuary.
The room was empty, and the kids spent their first night in a hotel. I’m not sure why, but they needed that. While we were there, I asked her dad about where I could get a bed quickly. I never expected he would offer his from his spare room. Together the two of us worked to shove a dress, bedframe, mattresses, and headboard into my van and move it in the room. By the next day, we had the room all set up for their arrival.
What else could I do to make them comfortable? A quick trip to Ross offered to end tables, and then I went to purchase a deep freeze. My fridge and freezer are too small for food for four people. When I saw a need, I filled it, as did the many other people. The kids made a list of what their needs were to replace things. It was a delight to come home and see packages. My granddaughter loved it.
Of course, I could not do everything to make everyone o.k. We each had our moments, and none of us wanted to be very far from each other. There was intense separation anxiety. Still, I’m blessed that I have this home and the means to help them through what they are going through and give them a bit of normalcy in this nightmare.
Blessed
Pusche
With all that has happened with the kids losing their home and family pet to the house fire. I have discovered that through this I am good at taking charge. I can see what needs to be done, and delegate it. However, reverse the roles, and make me a doer and I’m a mess.
People started coming to me in front of my daughter’s home with bags of clothes. I had asked my daughter for everyone’s sizes and gave it to a neighbor who apparently posted it on a neighborhood forum. At first, I put the donation in my van, and then I asked a neighbor who had spread the word if he would be the collection area. Having bags in my van felt overwhelming to me. I asked him if he had room in his garage to sort the clothes out. If he would throw out what he deemed not to be good, and to sort by size and gender. Then, all my kids had to do was to go to their home and shop. This is exactly what happened.
After doing so many things like culling through the debris, and finding a CPAP machine for my son -in law and talking to insurance, and boarding up a house and trying to come to terms with this disaster, my kids were able to visit their friends and go through all of the clothes. My daughter said that surprisingly someone donated some of the same clothes that were in her closet in her very size. Both of the kids said they had a lot of clothes that were nicer than what they had previously owned. I call this type of experiences a God thing. They came back to my home with trash bags and bins filled with clothes. My job was to go to Target and buy hangers. I was obsessed with hangers. My kids may not own a stitch of clothes from before February but whatever they now own would be hung up. I know my daughter loves hangers as well. I did this because I knew it was a way for her to feel some normalcy. I purchased blue hangers for her and grey for him and little pink ones for my granddaughter. I must say, walking through Target felt eerily similar to walking around after my mother passed away. It was if you walk with this fog and grief and can not believe that everyone was just “doing life.” I broke down twice in Target. In hindsight, I realized I was strong around the kids. Being away from them it hit me, and I was a mess, but by God, I had hangers for my kids.
My daughter’s home office. She lost her profession, her home, her belongings and her beloved dog.
Five days ago I was working in the studio trying to get ready for a deadline that was quickly coming on in three days. It was afternoon, and I got a call from my daughter as I was talking to my client.
“ Can I call you right back? “
“Sure,” she said.
I went back to my phone call, and it was interrupted by my son in law, he was crying.
“ My house is on fire; I just got out alive. Our dog is dead. ”
“Oh my God,” I said, “I’m on my way.”
I thought, “my daughter does not know, she sounded fine when I just talked to her. ”
Her house is about 30 minutes from the central part of Houston where I live. That is without traffic. I told my intern, “ lock up, I got to go,” then as I walked out the door, I remembered the deadline. I said, “just keep working. You know what to do.” She stayed.
It was a good thing because when my daughter can’t get me on my cell, she calls my landline. Thank God my intern could pick up. Because now my daughter new and was trying to reach me. Later my daughter says, I don’t think I made much sense. Your intern was so calm when I was talking to her.
On the way, I tried to figure out the situation. My daughter must have been picking up my granddaughter at school it was before 3:00. What time was she dismissed? I wondered, why didn’t I pay closer attention. If she called me, then she was probably going to get her. I was thankful my granddaughter was not in the house. I was sure of that.
I had my headphones and called my daughter’s dads. Her father said, “ I don’t have anyone to take over the shop.” It sucks to be in business for yourself. I was not sure how bad things were, but if my son in law, “just got out alive” then it does not matter. “ Put a sign on the door saying family emergency, COME!” I said in a firmer voice than I thought I had. I hung up and called her stepdad. He and I are at that precarious place, just after a divorce, where we are trying to find our footing. But he has co-fathered my daughter for 18 years, he needed to know. Still absorbed in graduate school, he says, “I have a presentation to do at 3:30, let me know.” Frankly, I don’t know if I called him back. I vaguely remember calling someone as I roamed around after seeing everything saying, Oh, my God this is horrific. It is so bad. I have no words. Whatever transpired, step-dad was on his way. He did not do his presentation, but came and did everything he could to help. This is the first “God moment” I see in this horrific destruction. God brought about a way for us to bond together as a family, a way for my x to rally to his step-daughter and son in law.
How come everyone drives so slowly? I thought as I tried to rush past.
My phone rang, and it was my son in law and daughter.
Your daughter is here; she passed out, we are in an ambulance, she wants you, I told her you were coming.
“I won’t be long,” I said
“Mom I did this, I killed my dog, I did this.’
I still did not have the entire story, but what I knew, at that moment, is that my daughter was wailing in grief.
“I’m on my way; I’ll be there soon.”
I don’t know why we hung up. It was probably good we did, I don’t think I could have driven.
As I got closer, I found myself searching the skies for signs of smoke. The blue cloud-specked sky gave me hope that everyone was o.k. The closer I got the more I was relieved, until I entered the subdivision. My daughter’s house is about six houses from the corner. The street there was closed off. There were many fire trucks. I parked my van at a neighbors house asking a woman that I think was standing there in slippers and a pink bathrobe. I wondered for a moment why she would be in this outfit in the middle of the day. I asked her if it was ok to park there. I might have said something about it was my daughter. I didn’t even notice that the car that was parked haphazardly next to mine was my daughter’s.
Getting out of the car, I cursed myself that I decided to wear work clothes without pockets. I slung my purse over my head and shoved my things inside. This will do.
I ran down the street past the many firetrucks. The closer I got the more frightened I became. Fireman looked at me and stared, where is my daughter? It was my daughter’s house, Where is my daughter and son in law? I asked.
“In the ambulance” a young man replied.
Why was the ambulance so far away? I felt like I was running in slow motion.
I could see her in the windows looking out, I ran up to the back and wanted to bang on the door, it felt like I might, I tried to tap, and I saw a side door open.
A woman in black came out and grabbed me by the shoulders looked me in the eye and said, “You cannot go in there.”
In my mind, I’m screaming. “JUST WATCH ME! You can’t keep my daughter from me. Breath.” I hear myself saying.
“You can’t go in there upset.” She repeats.
“Your daughter fainted from high blood pressure. We are trying to stabilize her. You need to stay calm.”
That is better I think.
I promise her I will be calm,
Crawling in amongst my daughter’s head she repeats the words, “I did this, mom I did this. I killed my dog, and I ruined everything.” The remorse and wailing made me wish I could remove it. What parent would not? “You did not do this; it was an accident.” My daughter goes on about a candle, how she hates, them how she never lights them. Why did she do it?
I have had several do over moments in my life, or moments where I wish I could have erased the scene. Frankly, I’m not sure I could ever be one to experience the trauma of a loved one first hand. God forbid I should see the death of a loved one. I would be as Robin Williams in the Fisher King, and retreat to a make-believe place in the sewers. Reality would cease to exist. How I wondered, do I help my daughter go through this? How do I keep her nightmares away? I look at the attendant in the ambulance for these answers. She says, “You did not do this, it is not like you went and had a blow torch…”
“No, my mom does that.” My daughter jests.
The ambulance worker looks at me a bit worried.
“I’m a sculptor it is part of my job. Gee kid you are going to make her think we have a pyromaniac in the family.”
I have always marveled at my daughter in every circumstance. It does not matter what she is going through she is always recognizing the assistance of others. I hear thank you from her lips more than anything else. How does she do that? How does she not become so absorbed in herself or situation that she forgets? She reminds me so much of my mother.
They asked us to move the car. But my son in law could not do it because he had no pants. Working nights he was sleeping. He had just taken medicine to help him to sleep as he was sick, and when he woke he just had enough time to jump out the window wearing only his boxers. A small T-shirt was stretched across his chest, something someone must have given him. So, I exited the ambulance with two things in mind—get back to the ambulance as soon as possible and find my son some pants. I walked in a daze back to my daughter’s car hoping no one took the opportunity to steal something from it while it was parked with windows down. I also asked several total strangers if they had pants.
Back in the ambulance, they say my daughter can see the dog, what do they want to do with the dog. I ask her, and immediately realize, she is in no place to make decisions.
