Dee and Greg, Charlene and Xavier, Paula and Glen. Daughter Carrie moved heaven and earth to find us doors, contractors, wood, furniture; whatever we needed to build up this house again. Frank's coworkers from the Katrina ravaged areas around New Orleans, who knew what these feelings were like because they lived them.
Jason who brought us the Camper From Hell we lived in for 9 months. No heat and no refrigerator and tiny as anything, but it was not a shelter and our 3 bassets were with us. And that was worth more than any money.
My Quilting friends who kept reading as I wrote day
to day journals. The writing of it helped keep me sane. There were daily tears, heck, daily sobs. Charlene and Paula spent countless hours washing my quilts and my fabric. I can't begin to even say what that means to me.
Many sent me quilting fabric and implements. Or just a fat quarter or a pattern even. I
received a huge box of stuff from Mari. A quilt I will always
treasure arrived one day from the Barn Builders. I still sleep under their love each night.
The spices made my food taste like something again.
Patty, whose specialty is amazing t-shirt quilts, made one for me to make it feel like personal home again.
We could not have survived without the combined effort of our friends.
It is a year later now and everything in our house is new except the sink and the gas stove top. I still have flashbacks to walking in the hallway with the water swirling around my ankles. Writing this recollection was cathartic, as Penny suggested. But when I saw the photo of Frank in the back of the truck, I broke down in tears.
There have been some amusing moments through the year too. Randomly finding a neighbor who had a fork lift and how he moved Frank's car out to the street.
Watching Frank count out the cash to pay for his new truck was priceless.
Sleeping in sleeping bags because the Camper From Hell had no heater and we have 27 degree nights in winter.
Buying all new clothes because I had two shirts, three capri pants and one bra to my name. Somehow Frank had over 50 t-shirts, 20 pairs of jeans and all his socks and underwear. How did THAT happen?
I am glad it is over. Yes, physically over. Mentally, it will always be with me till I take my last breath on this earth.
The need to mark this event as it has marked me is strong. I want a visual reminder of the rising water, the tears and the gut pain. I have chosen the tattoo that I will wear for as long as that part of me remains. And beyond.
Forever.
