The Morning After
We mostly stared, like deer in oncoming headlights, totally unsure of what our next move should be. There was no way for us to get to the neighborhood. The fire had moved on, leaving smoldering homes and hotspots everywhere in its path. We felt like we had just lost a loved one, but until we were notified and could see the body, we held out a slim hope that somehow our house had been spared.
As the adrenaline wore off, fatigue set in. We answered and made a few calls assuring friends and family we were all safe but that we feared the house was lost. Offers of help punctuated every conversation, but, really, what could anybody do? It was totally in our hands.
The rest of the day is largely a blur. Check-in at the Hyatt. People everywhere in the lobby, dogs and more dogs, a few cats in carriers. Glassy-eyed men and women anxiously talking and texting.
Going to dinner at Jackson’s Bar and Oven, Pogo safely ensconced at the hotel in his carrier beneath our table. A compassionate, complimentary meal. People offering condolences. Drinks to ease the pain. Walking Pogo around the hotel.
Finally crashing.
We crawled in to bed sans the usual sleeping attire: no night gown, no pajamas, just Pogo snuggled between us providing warmth and comfort. A frightening realization set in: all of our worldly possessions were in this hotel room (except for Minnie who stayed at my sister’s home). Staring at then ceiling, holding hands, tears trickling down. After some time we mercifully dozed off.
The dawn of our new life appeared just a few hours later.
New Days Of Our Life
We immediately started to plan our day. We needed everything, so we headed to Target for shoes, clothes, underwear, socks, jackets, reading glasses, toothbrush, deodorant, and on and on, each item a reminder of just how little our “everything” now was.
Other victims of the fire roamed the store, their plight revealed by the contents of their respective carts and dazed looks. Gazes met, hugs exchanged. The city was in shock.
The inescapable toxic smoke was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ash rained down on cars and buildings. Coughing and sneezing, red eyes, tears – smoke the culprit.
As that day unfolded, questions came pouring out. How do we replace our vital records? When can we visit our site? What to do about debris removal? How do we get living expenses?
Answers to these and other questions we didn’t know we should ask would surface over the ensuing days and weeks.
Definitive proof that our home was gone came on the morning of the 12th. Our former neighbor, an energy company executive, was able to use her credentials to gain access to the neighborhood. Her former home was the one at the top of our driveway. It was gone.
She called to tell us the news we dreaded: all was lost. She sent us these pictures of what was left of our house.
I lost it. We both cried, really cried, sobbing for the first time. How could this happen to us? What did we do? What will we do? Seeing what the fire did to structures, I shuddered to think what our fate would have been but for the simple plan we had executed. The photos were s a gut punch that left me nearly breathless. The stress was palpable.
We returned to the Hyatt that evening to meet up with our neighbor who had made it up from San Diego while his wife watch the horror unfold on television in Spain. The three of us numbly went to dinner, all glassy-eyed, pain etched on our respective faces. Realization had arrived in full force.
We had only one option–to start our recovery.
It would be a recovery fueled by our love for each other, Jane’s positive attitude, our resolve, love from our neighbors and family, even total strangers. We leaned on all the love that came our way to help keep us upright and steady in the weeks and months ahead. Inspiration and encouragement came for all directions as the community came together. “Sonoma Strong” became a rallying cry.
But perhaps the most inspirational statement came from a photograph of one of the sculptures at a local winery. Paradise Ridge, a favorite winery located on a hill a couple miles from our home, lost nearly all of their structures, including the tasting room, but not the LOVE sculpture.
This poignant photograph from their sculpture garden, taken by the Press Democrat and overlaid with the title words from this post, is now iconic.
Photo: Santa Rosa Press Democrat.
The LOVE sculpture has even more significance in our journey: it’s from the 2007 Burning Man Festival held in the Reno area every year.
It was to be a long, difficult journey as we traveled three stressful, parallel paths on the way: dealing with the minutia of the insurance requirements, coordinating the myriad of detail we had to manage for the construction of our new home in Reno, and helplessly watching Mom’s decline. She passed on March 28, 2018, her passing no doubt accelerated by the trauma of the fire. She was 99 1/2.
Her passing put the loss of our home in perespective: nothing compares to losing a loved one. Without an abundance of love to lean on, I don’t know how we would have gotten through all that we lost.
In my next post, I’ll talk about some of the highlights and lowlights of our recovery, lessons learned, and how we got through this seemingly impossible burden by leaning on love.
I see the hand of God in many of the coincidences you describe. I’m so sorry you went through this!
Thanks, Marian. We’ll never really know. Keep your faith. It makes life’s mountains easier to climb.
Omg this is wonderful written!!! Keep writing!!! I sure miss ya’ll! It was a hard Christmas this year as I’m sure it was for you too!!! Can’t wait to see y’all again!!!! Xoxo
Thanks, Diane. I’m working on the next section. Get your butt out here!
Thanks for sharing this with us. I am in awe of the experience and your artful telling of it. We are so glad that you, Jane and Pogo are our friends and neighbors. Love does stand.
Thanks, Vince. You and Joyce have been a big part of our trek to a new normal. So glad to have you in our life.
Dear Steve Jane. It is amazing how someone how someone could live thru such a tragic experience. Yes we felt so bad losing everything you worked for all your life for. you both have been so kind and caring to everyone in need,it is amazing life is stating over again. Your LOVE for each other is what has kept you both going. Your blog is great. Writing it had be very painful. Thanks… Love. B.J.
Thanks, B.J. It was tough at times, but I feel better having gone through the process. Your love and encouragement is a gift we cherish. And we are so grateful to you for keeping Mom in your life and bringing a smile to her face with every card. L0ve you.
Dear Steve, Your blog is an outstanding first person account of what happened and how it all affected you and yours. A brilliant piece of writing. Even though I knew the details, your writing builds tension and fear. Then the profound loss of everything. I am so impressed with this piece – it brought tears to my eyes. Both Ken and I read it with awe. Thank you for sharing this piece – keep on writing and we will keep on reading. Much love, Susan and Ken
Thanks you so much, Susan and Ken. It was a struggle at times but I feel better having a record of that night. The next blog will go into some of the detail of our experience at the site, including the incredible efforts of both of you to try to salvage some remnants of our life’s work. for which we areforever grateful. We may be in CA in January… will let you know when we confirm.. Meanwhile, Happy New Year. Love from us guys in Reno.:)
Steve and Jane-this account of what you endured absolutely blows my mind. I still can’t imagine going through this, yet I know that re-living and writing about this devastation probably has helped in many ways. Thanking God for your safety and a new place now called ‘home’.
Thanks,Debbie. We’re doing good. Life goes on.
This brought tears to my eyes, slowly running down my cheeks as I kept turning the pages. Thank you for sharing such a horrific, terrifying life experience. This read was amazing…just trying to imagine the every footstep and turn and emotion is indescribable. Love you both immensely and look forward to seeing your new beginnings in Reno. Xoxo
Love you, too. Your love and that of all the Morgans is a life treasure. ❤️
Dear Jane and Steve,
If it weren’t for Jane friending me last night, I would have never read this piece. I read it aloud to Fred with many breaks for the tears and anguish I felt for you and your family’s experience. My heart aches for what you went through. And, yes, God and life has a way of putting things into perspective.
This morning, I sat at my kitchen table full of sadness and anxiety of what lay ahead after my mother’s death. Then I read your blog. Your retelling if this horrific experience helped put mine into perspective. Yes, we all need to move on with love, kindness and grace, but mostly with love. Our friends, family and loving community are instrumental in moving forward. As the saying goes, “No man is an island.”
My prayers and thoughts are with you, always.
Nancy Krahn (née Bianowicz)
Thank you Nancy. I am so sorry for your loss. I hope the many wonderful memories you have of your Mom and the love of your family and friends bring you comfort as you move ahead. There’s a poem on our website –theeckels2.us — under the “Remembering” tab which I often read when I get very down about losing my Mom. It’s about love and grief. I think you will like it. Have a health and happy New Year, filled with lots of love.
I couldn’t get theeckels2.us. Could there be a letter or number missing.
Nancy
Hi Nancy…
http://theeckels2.us/ is the link. Try it from this link. It should work. Sent from my iPad
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I don’t even know what to say after reading your accounting. I too cried feeling the terror and danger. No wonder you have nightmares. I am so thankful my dear friends survived even though scathed. Only goes to show what wonderful people you are and that you are still needed on earth. Love to you both. Ruth and Marc
Thanks Ruthie and Marc. We’re well on our way to our new life thanks to the love and support of family like you. Have a great new year as you embark on a new phase of your life. Love and hugs.
Steve, My father John Saunders sent out the link to your blog and I read and was touched by every word. Thank you so much for sharing your story. I feel like I knew your mother, wife, pets and self while I learned your harrowing yet life affirming story. I am glad for my father and Anita that you must have become their new friends.
With heartfelt wishes to you and your wife,
Catherine Saunders Hartoch in Portland, Oregon
Thank you very much, Catherine, for taking the time to read it and for your very kind comments. We continue to rebuild our lives with the help of our new friends, your Dad and Anita among the best. John and I share Veteran status and hanging out at the pool. I often see him there where we both do our respective version of water exercise. He has a great sense of humor, one I enjoy immensely. And a keen sense of the political environment. I hope you visit him and Anita in the near future. It would be great to me you in person.
Thanks again and take care.