put my lipstick on a little too bright then I took a deep breath, and started to drive.
They let me in without a cover charge, found my way to the back of the bar,
peeled the corners off a cocktail napkin, watching everyone smilin', laughin'.
I just bought a drink, downtown all alone, searching through the names,
getting lost in my cell phone, it ain't pretty, when a heart breaks."-
It ain't pretty: Lady Antebellum
Lord the end of 2017 was one for the record books. A fire. A wonderful family members death. Letting go of a few caustic friendships that no longer served their purpose. Working a job that took me from my Over thinking mind and the depression, but was physically demanding, (Think 72 hrs a week) yet was oddly satisfying, A lonely Christmas, and unseasonable warm weather. Trading in Blarry for Fancy the Silver Fox Evan, (Foxy), painting the outside of our home and ridding ourselves of so much clutter it was detoxifying... Hiding the pain. Not ready to face the Sadness.
Healing from the outside in. It's hard. It isn't a pain I had ever experienced, and trying to explain my feelings to anyone is next to impossible. They cannot comprehend. I am about 3 months in the grieving process behind my family... by selfish design. I took a job for the holidays that
purposefully kept me from going home. Home is broken. Home brings sweeping thoughts and floods of tears. Scared. Scared of the pain for first time in my life. It's real. It's raw, and it fucking hurts. Describing the pain is something I don't think I can do. This hurts more than any relationship I have ever ended feels. More than leaving towns, jobs, homes, could ever feel. I told you in the last blog that home wasn't just my parents house. I grew up here. Every week. For months at a time. When I left my first husband, this is where I landed. Whenever I come to the area, this is where I found my solace and was able to catch my breath. Inanely Home. Familiar. Secluded. Warm. Comfortable. I could go on.
I cried driving down 101, seeing the scorched earth. Seeing the outlines of the fire, where it jumped the freeway and where it threatened the close towns outside of Redwood Valley. I saw where it blackened the trees, and the cars, and the buildings it reduced to ash. It was on a path from hell.
And it won.
We decided to visit the valley the next day. And rest after our long trip down. Ukiah was the same, so I didn't have to face the sadness that it entailed.
The next day we started to drive, but I made Beau swap seats with me at Redwood Valley School, and I got the Rebel ready. The first signs of the fire weren't far beyond this point. In fact, the railroad tracks is where you see the very first home casualty. "Oh my gosh, there is one". That changed
quickly though. Many properties at this point were damaged and scattered complete losses... but the closer we got to Road K.... The more we saw. I passed my Aunts home, where I saw my grandparents Trailer (thank GOD THEY HAD THAT) parked. Then I turned onto Road K.
Driving down Road K I guess I didn't realize the extent of the damage. It is hard to know the scope of the damage from afar... Blackberry bushes that concealed properties for 30 plus years were
gone, Thus allowing us to peer into eerily vacant lots. I remember cruising around and knocking on doors, while looking for friends to play with as a child. Flag lots are now roped off, caution taped and flagged land, soaking wet and covered in hay. Barns where horses, that I used to pet, resided, were burnt down. The beautiful home who's owner parked a big rig just behind the gate, gone. One property showed a burned Classic car, and one a large Pit, surrounded by temporary chain link, and rolls of hay. Everything is green from the rain and the sun, yet black... and muddy.
As I drove down the street I cried harder than I probably should have. Thank god Beau and I had switched driving Foxy, and I was able to let it all go. As we turned down the long driveway to approach the property, I felt the change. I was overwhelmed. Seeing it in person was a surreal
moment for me. Making all sorts of noises I'm sure made my patient husband uncomfortable, I slumped onto the dash. I don't think I looked up for about 10 minutes. When I did, This is what I saw:
Gone. Greeting us, A small grove of trees with various Lawn ornaments in disarray. A bench and a weather Vane that looks like it had been blackened from the flames...A sign with check marks tells us whats been completed. Nothing but government checks from here. Letting us know the status of the nothing. Of the SPACE. Where the house used to be, there's nothing but a very long roll of hay, a few pipes flagged where the sewer and the water hookups are, and a few over turned and singed chairs.
That's what you see where the home once stood. Bare. Muddy. black.. and yet beautifully rich green. A small shed stands behind where the garage stood, with an American flag hung solemnly on one side. In front of it is a bare, flat cement slab. A reminder of what once was a full shop and loft. Back to the flag.
That fucking flag is almost as big as the "New garage".
Behind where the home stood, is the "Potion Tree". Us Teach cousins were the kids that roamed the property to find whatever we could to put into the center of this tree and it was our "potion". I think we did this for close to 10 years. We fought and concocted and picked sides and were children using our imaginations to the fullest at this tree. The trees are now blackened at the tops. Oddly, the rope swing still stands. Although the knotted rope climb burned to the stub, and the top board where the rope swing is bolted in is charred, that swing, for whatever reason, it still was intact. Ropes, wooden seat, and all.
The pool where I almost broke my nose after too much peppermint schnapps has been gone for years, but the gorgeous decks that my grandfather built himself and were so proud of aren't even ash. They have already cleaned the property. I am getting the dumbed-down version of events. Again, by design. Seeing the ash in person would probably have wrecked me. As it was, I had a hard time looking at the photos. I still do. Everything that was is now no longer. New will begin to transform the old. Soon we will remember the new like we remembered the old. Sadly, this won't bring back the photos of my mom, aunt, and uncles, as babies. This won't bring back the eagles above the couches. It won't bring back the family photos hung down the hall, nor the Budweiser cups hung above the bar, the olive oil jars in the kitchen, or the carousel horses I loved to admire in the dining room. The stained glass my grandma used to make... The Wicker and glass Coffee Table. Gone... Just Gone.
I understand with perfect clarity, that is is just stuff. That maybe people don't have the same length of time attached to the place and the way things used to be. I still close my eyes and can perfectly outline each nook and cranny. I will sit, even now, and think about what may have been in a room and feel sadness due to the knowledge it no longer exists. I am so thankful I was able to take home the things I was given in August when I visited. Two months later and those items would also be lost. So I get to make many beautiful items with the pieces I collected. When I am at my saddest I pour into the wire-wrapping and let the creativity flow.
So after crying and meditating for about 45 minutes on the grave of the home, we pulled out to drive to "Loop". This is where I learned to drive. "the Loop" connects West Road and East Road. It also leads out Tomki... Everything in between The two roads, is just about gone. The large victorian
home, and the gorgeous vineyards, and fuck, entire blocks... Gone. Up Tomki We went to Fisher Lake, and my friend Chelsea's childhood home. Gone. Nothing but charred trees and blackened pots. An entire cul-de-sac. Decimated.
After the tour we hit up our favorite local haunts, and I preceded to sip my sorrow. Maybe we stopped too often on the way back to my moms, but I had a sober driver. And I'm not
even going to lie. I was feeling pretty shitty. Puffy eyes and a heavy heart are hard to soothe. Especially without "help".
Seeing my grandparents for the first time was hard. The pain I cannot take away from them absolutely breaks my heart. My inability to make it whole is something I will regret for my entire life. But I held her, and we cried. And I'm so sorry I was embarrassingly emotional. I would tell you I am better but it is kind of a lie. I sit and something will trigger the pain I feel. And I will start to cry. Not just for my grandparents, but for the thousands of other families feeling the same sadness.
Survivors guilt is REAL. All I can say to anyone who has the same survivors guilt in the future, is talk about it. Even when everyone shuts you down because maybe it is uncomfortable for them. To anyone who may know someone who may have a disaster in the future... LET THEM GRIEVE. LET THEM TALK ABOUT IT. Unhelpful sayings are, "At least they are still alive," and
"it's just stuff." We FUCKING GET THAT. Don't tell them it wasn't even their home. You don't know the extent that they lived there growing up, or even in the recent past. Maybe they visited more often than you think. Maybe it is something they should be sad about. Maybe they left something there, hell even if its just memories... let them feel their pain and lift them up.
I was guilty of all of these until it happened to me. To my Family. I may live a state away but I am in daily contact and I was at this home every month (Til it was no more) in 2017.
I had things there. I have life there. I have love there. And now the love remains but the security is gone. FOR THE SECOND TIME IN MY LIFE. In my families lives. In my grandparents lives.
And that... hurts the most. This isn't the first rebuild, but the first COMPLETE loss. Read that again... Complete.
Chelsea posted they cut down the potion tree today, and here I am. Sobbing between the keys. Another memory Gone. Tell me again it doesn't matter. As I cry over a fucking TREE.
It ain't pretty. When a heart breaks.
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