Picking Up The Pieces.

Giving Thanks

We had a tremendous amount to be thankful for, headlined by the fact we were alive, still had my Mom, had made good progress in adapting to our changed life, and had a continuous outpouring of love, well wishes and gifts from family and friends. We welcomed the chance to focus on the holiday and enjoy time away from the constant presence of our loss.

We were in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner when Jane received a call from FEMA. It was our twenty-four notice that our lot would be cleared the next day. Jane was incredulous.

We had to be there.

Couldn’t they delay until we returned on Monday?

Why now, when just days before we were told it would not be until sometime in December?

The answer was no on a delay. The explanation for “why now” was their intent to clear a neighbor’s lot the following day. Jane made several calls trying to reach someone who could help. We wanted desperately to be there in case we spotted some remnant we could rescue. Even though we knew it would be painful to watch our life’s work scraped and gobbled up by front loaders, it was a pain we felt would be worthwhile if it yielded just one small memory.

It wasn’t meant to be.

When we returned on December 1st, our homesite was the only cleared. The wheels of bureaucracy had somehow ground to a halt after our lot was cleared. The unprecedented scope of the disaster no doubt contributed to the mix-up. Theirs was a painful, thankless job which under the circumstances was executed quite well over the ensuing months.

The only visible clue that our home once stood was the lower level foundation which had been left as a retaining wall to prevent erosion from the predicted winter rains. Yellow tape outlined the boundaries of the site. It looked like a restricted crime site.

The anguish we felt was breathtaking. It was truly gone.

Transition

We spent the rest of December focused on acquiring things we would need down the road, including furniture that would take months to be delivered. Many of the merchants were very generous in offering discounts to fire victims, most notably Macy’s who extended the discount for one year. The hotel made our life as pleasant as it could be, accommodating our every need, including upgrading us to a suite on the ground floor so Pogo’s daily walks didn’t have to include a ride on a scary elevator.

Christmas was a low-keyed family dinner, the normal joy of the holiday subdued by the circumstances. Compassion was the main course, love the spirit of the day. Our gift was being there.

Empathy from our friends and neighbors, the only ones who could truly put themselves in our shoes, helped sustain our cautiously optimistic spirit. The “Fab Five,” as we called ourselves, spent New Year’s Eve together as we had for the past several years. We had a lovely dinner, exchanged love and hugs, and wishes for better days for all of us in 2018.

The new year took an encouraging direction in early January when insurance companies, under pressure from the California Insurance Commissioner, instituted changes in their personal property requirements. Some of the insurance companies waived the requirement entirely. Our insurer, Farmers Group, was the first to do so, a move that assured our continued loyalty to them. Our adjuster informed us of their decision to pay us the full insured amount in early January. It was just what the doctor ordered. A giant weight was lifted from our shoulders, our spirits soared and our step took on a livelier gait.

Insurance is not your enemy. It may seem that all you do is pay, but without it you may never recover from a disaster or huge loss. Don’t decide insurance coverage based solely on cost. Your policy is basically a contract, and, regardless of the value of what you lose, you “get what you paid for.” Understand the terms of your policy. Take pictures of your home inside and out, artwork, jewelry, furniture, closets. Keep the pictures and a list of their origin and cost in a safe place — the “cloud” or a bank vault if possible. Be sure you’re comfortable with your personal property coverage and understand the requirements you may face in the event of a disaster.

Jane

After 109 days in the Hyatt Regency, we moved into an apartment a few miles away. The staff and management were saddened to see us go, as were we to leave. The love and support they provided was a balm that eased our pain and reminded us of all that is good about our country.

As we settled into our apartment, construction of our home in Regency at Damonte Ranch in Reno sputtered along. A late April/early May completion date became a moving target as delays from weather and available labor and materials bogged down the build. The same fire that destroyed our home was now siphoning off resources needed to build our new one.

A trip to Reno in mid-February was discouraging: the framing was done, not much else. The close date was slipping even as we walked through the wooden skeleton. We returned to Santa Rosa uncertain of when we would be moving, hoping it would, at worst, coincide with our six-month rental contract that expired at the end of July.

Jane spent countless hours exchanging emails, voicemails, and conversations, drilling deep into the minutia of home construction. The process was complicated by the number of subcontractors involved, personnel changes, misunderstandings and the sheer volume of details she was managing. It was as mind-boggling as the inventory, but with each decision, each weekly update, each check mark, the house and our future in it became more real.

The last tether to our Santa Rosa home was severed on March 25th when we sold our lot to a developer. Our home had officially been relegated to history.

The relief of eliminating the final piece was overcome by the grief we were facing with Mom’s declining health.

Farewell
As we waded through the details of the building process, we did so with ever-increasing heavy hearts: Mom’s health was slipping, and her will to live was being eroded by the relentless forces of aging. She went into hospice care in my sister’s home in early March and passed peacefully on the 28th, surrounded by family. She left us just seven months short of her 100th birthday.

I held her hand as she took her final breath. For the first time in my 73 years, my mother was no longer with me. The loss of our home and the things in it paled by comparison. On May 5th, we held a celebration of her life, attended by family and friends from near and far. It was a lovely good-bye to a lovely woman whose beautiful smile I see everyday.

Steve