August 28th--Anniversary of the fire that destroyed our house

It's been two years. The first 18 months have been the worst period of my life. It was three weeks
after my hip replacement and recovery was going well. My youngest had just started his senior year in high school. My oldest had put a deposit on a townhouse under construction not far from his job. Hubby was busy with his practice and clinics. Construction was stalled on our house in Panama and all the furniture for it had been in storage ready to be shipped for 10 months.

Events of extreme stress really do happen in slow motion. Although the fire department arrived
within five minutes of being called and had the hoses run from the pumper truck into the house within another five minutes, the fire that started on the deck had spread inside the house. It was an inferno
in minutes. The fire fighters had to back out of the house because of the heat and go defensive
to keep it from spreading on our dry, drought ridden wooded hillside. It all happened so fast--but it
seemed like an eternity. I sat on the steps at the top of our driveway and watched everything we owned go up in flames. Photos, videos of the kids growing up, financial records, college diplomas, hundreds of books, everything I'd ever written, artwork, crystal, wedding presents, mementos from childhood, yearbooks, jewelry, clothes...all gone.

It took almost two hours for the fire department to get the blaze under control. There were 59 fire fighters from several counties involved. They are heroes. One was injured by a falling beam. They kept the house from burning to the ground. Later we would be able to salvage a few things and be astonished to find some photo albums not completely burned; a bag of clothes for the cleaners not even sooty hanging in a closet; collectible glass plates and crystal in a kitchen cupboard not destroyed; and miracle of miracles, a file of receipts for furniture that would document for the insurance company cost of contents.

Thank goodness for neighbors who took us in. The Red Cross came and gave us a credit card. I had grabbed my purse on the way out the front door, but hubby had run out without his wallet, his car keys, or even his glasses. We didn't have clothes or shoes. Neighbors loaned us things to wear; a fireman gave hubby a pair of extra athletic shoes on the truck. We spent four days with neighbors three houses away--all a blur. Neighbors we'd never met offered us their home while they were away for two weeks, including our dog and two cats. Tanya came out of the house with us; the cats were always put out at night. Simba came back the night after the fire and Mouse returned the next morning. By the time we'd moved into the vacationing neighbor's home a claims rep from the insurance company arrived. I spent days with her reviewing everything in every room of the house.

Within two weeks we moved again, this time into a rental house. I called the storage company and told
them to bring everything intended for Panama to the rental. One friend said I'd had a house in a box
and it was true, because when you're planning to furnish a two bedroom home on a remote island in
Central America, you ship EVERYTHING.

Then the fighting started. The insurance company tried to buy us off for 2/3 of our insured amount
to replace the house. We hired a public adjuster to fight on our behalf. Thanks to our salvaged
photos, the furniture receipts and my memory, the insurance company didn't dispute the cost of contents. The lender refused to adjust our loan payments after they received the first insurance check
and then ignored us. They ignored phone calls and letters. They ignored our attorney. Only after
I filed a complaint with the NC Commissioner of Banks did they step up and do the right thing--six months after the fire. Eventually, the insurance company settled and we were able to pay off the
mortgage but we had to come up with out of pocket money to pay for demolition of the house.

All this was going on while our youngest was making college applications. Hubby was helping him apply for scholarships. Four months after the fire, our oldest called one morning and he'd been laid off. His townhouse was due to close in less than 60 days. I spent time each day e-mailing him job leads I'd find on-line or in the newspaper. Within six weeks he started a new job; he closed on his townhouse two weeks later. I helped him move.

Hubby and I decided to buy a small house on the same street where our house had burned down.
We drew up plans to add on/remodel, hired a contractor and started the project. Construction
never goes according to plan and this was no different. The place was supposed to be finished
for us to move in mid-September when our lease on the rental house was up. The builder kept promising me it would be done. We gave notice on the rental house, hired movers, packed up
and moved in 13 months after the fire: the kitchen wasn't finished, the laundry room wasn't finished, the master bathroom wasn't finished, the painting/staining wasn't finished, the deck was without railings...what a mess. It was three more months before we finally got everything done-or gave up.

During the summer before we moved we had to put our beloved Tanya to sleep; we had rescued her from the animal shelter in Lincoln and believed her to be about 14. It made it harder to say when
telling the story of the fire, "at least we all--including the pets-- survived." Tanya hated fires; whenever we had one in the fireplace she would get up and go into another room.

This spring, after living in our little house for awhile, I decided to seriously explore rebuilding a slightly larger place on our lot. I looked at house plans. I talked to architects. I found a couple of builders to give estimates. Then I decided I really should see what was available on the market. I found a house I liked, but we would need to build a separate office for hubby and perhaps space for our youngest. I got up at 2 a.m.--couldn't sleep one night--and started rearranging the living/dining room furniture. The big pieces intended for larger space in a different house just didn't work--but they could be replaced. The big coffee table is gone; the big sofa bed is gone; the big dining table is gone.
It would be a helluva' lot easier and less expensive to buy some new furniture than to either buy or build
another house and move again. So, we are staying here.

Next week we're talking to landscapers about doing a water feature in the front yard, under the window
of my study. It will be the last improvement to our relocation. We've landscaped this yard; replaced
hollow doors with solid doors; built some storage and a workbench in the carport all after the original
construction was finished. We rented the studio apartment above the detached garage which didn't burn to a graduate student at UNC. Hubby is toying with the idea of building a fence for a vegetable garden next spring in the flat space where the house once stood.

Two years later and I can still see the flames when I close my eyes. I panic when I smell fire.
This house doesn't have a fireplace and I don't miss one. Hubby wants to buy another barbecue
and I don't want him to do it. (We think the fire started from a barbecue we'd had on Sunday night; I spotted fire outside our bedroom window 36 hours later at 4:30 a.m. on Tuesday.)

I have been dieting and abstaining from wine/booze the entire month of August; it's working and I'm steadily losing weight I'd gained since the fire. But tonight, I'm having a drink--a Manhattan.
Tonight I celebrate the end of the worst time in my life. Tonight we toast the future. Tomorrow,
back on the diet because in September and October I'm going to party with classmates at 40th high school reunions celebrating friendships that have survived 40 some years--and that's a treasure that can never be destroyed.

Spring at the house which burned:



Snow in Chapel Hill:



Our new house:



Tanya and Mouse in the old house:



Simba under the tree--last Christmas in the old house:

what it's been like for you, mnhtnbb.

Best wishes in your new house, which is lovely, by the way! I especially like the landscaping!



:hug:

My wife's cousin and her husband lost their home in a canyon fire in SoCal 2 years ago. It was caused by VANDALISM, and not the weather (although the weather aggravated it).

I just can't imagine.

Best of luck with getting back to making a house a HOME.

What an amazing and tragic story...

Oh, and I love your old house, and I love the new one too...

You are a very strong woman to have come through all of that. Kudos to you!

Here's to your bright future!

:toast:

and toasted the future.

I think of Katrina and Cedar Rapids--people still displaced from floods-- and realize how lucky I am.

I watch the fires in California with horror. We left California in 1988.

I am glad that you have a lovely new home and are recovering as best you can from your traumatic loss. :hug:

The smoke detector woke up my son. I happened to be awake. There was a very narrow window of opportunity to get out.

even respond to smoke detectors. Something about the frequencies being wrong.

The original detectors in the trailer were the kind that are hard-wired into the house and have a terrifying grinding klaxon sort of noise. But they no longer work so we use the battery-powered kind that beep.

clock was going off. When he tried to turn the alarm clock off, the noise kept up. He heard something
funny outside, parted his drapes and had fire in his face.

getting out of the trailer during a fire. :hug:

I can't even begin to imagine what you've had to go through:hug: :hug:

We've lived with the threat of bushfires every year and it is really scary. My grandparents lost their holiday home in a very bad bushfire two decades ago. It is indeed heartbreaking

I'm glad that you are beginning to rebuild your life. But I'm so, so very loss for your pain and loss