Fires – Survivor Guilt

Why me?  This is the question often asked by innocent people caught in an unimaginable catastrophe.  They simply cannot comprehend how the unthinkable tragedies they see around the world have arrived at their now demolished doorstep.

But what about those who miraculously sidestepped the hellscape so many are now enduring?  We aren’t special or extra deserving; no, happenstance just veered the hurricane firestorm down its own path of destruction.

My husband and I were never in a mandated evacuation area. But we were two blocks from an evacuation warning, and this gave us enough time to slowly gather things that we would need and other treasures that couldn’t be replaced.  For instance, we have a 199-year-old 1826 portrait of an 8-year-old girl.  Our granddaughters can claim her to be their great, great, great, great, great grandmother.

But so what?  How about the heartbreaking loss thousands of people must endure of their own family memories?  We packed a lot of clothes, albums, and small family keepsakes, and had the time to put together an envelope of social security cards, passports, and other legal papers that would make it immeasurably easier to deal with the real possibility of having to use them.

But we didn’t.  We had time to fill up our gas tanks, figure out how to disengage our electric garage door if the power went out, and we had several options on where we could go.  Because our daughter and son-in-law flew out here as soon as they saw the conflagration erupting, we were able to take twice the amount of things because we had two cars and four people loading them.

But we never had to.  We never reached panic mode but we were as ready as we could be in a worst-case scenario.

So after several days, when the weather improved and manpower was greatly increased, we slowly returned our treasures to their rightful place in our home. We took videos of each room, plus the front and back yard, in case we ever lost our beloved abode.

Yesterday I was vacuuming, and with a gratitude and a thankfulness never previously acknowledged when doing housework, I thought to myself how immeasurably lucky I was to have a carpet to vacuum surrounded by a house that was still standing.

Switching Cicero’s comment about grief with guilt, he said it is foolish to tear one’s hair in guilt, as though guilt would be made less by baldness.

I get this.  But still . . .