Two Months Post Tornado

2 months ago today at 6:00 p.m. the news later reported that a high EF-2 tornado touched down in Arlington Woods with wind speeds reaching 220 km/h damaging several homes and trees and causing “catastrophic” damage." Actually, using the EF scale which states 218–266 km is an EF-3, I am blown away (excuse the pun) and how wind can be so strong for just seconds, wreak such havoc and then disappear!

Two months ago today. In some ways it seems as if it happened years ago and in other ways, it seems like time has stood still. Every day I meet people I haven't seen since the tornado who ask, "Are you all settled into your temporary home?" or, "Was your house badly damaged?" and, the ever present question, "Were you home at the time?", it all comes back and then some. I remember it as if it just happened. The sounds that are embedded in my mind forever, that train-like noise as if you were standing just next to the tracks and it was coming right at you — no, that will never go away. The sound of huge, old trees being snapped like matchsticks and slamming against the house, shattering glass, all taking place within seconds — is unlike anything I've ever experienced or want to again. I was in the kitchen, surrounded by windows overlooking the back yard. It was slightly windy but nothing unusual. Nothing unusual. And then that sound which I went to investigate by opening the front door and checking out what the noise was. Seeing a wall of wind coming at me as fast and loud as a train, mobilized me. But if I were still in the kitchen setting up my paints to start a project for the weekend and didn't bother checking it out, well, it could have been a whole lot worse.

Curiosity saved me.

Those memories hit when I least expect them to, when I go back to the house and see the starkness, when I instinctively look to see the new snow of the season coat the evergreens and pines but they're no longer there. To see such blinding sunshine when I approach the house, when it used to be under the shade of the trees, it's a feel of being exposed where we used to be protected and cushioned from light and sound.

I work with first responders, military and police, many who are suffering from PTSD or just on the precipice of it. I know how to approach trauma, know all the tricks in the book not to let memories take over as if in the present or define my future. I know that it's paramount to celebrate all we have and all we do that contributes to the world around us and to accept that those memories of a horrendous experience will always be there without it pulling me down. But what really hit home yesterday was that the rest of the world doesn't go away in the middle of all this.

I didn't realise just how much my surroundings supported me in my work and my life. Being surrounded by things you love, a community that is caring and connected — all of that plays a huge role in our every day lives. Work still happens but I have to consciously work at being totally present as my energy took a hit too. But I do it because I love who I work with and respect how much of themselves they give to the process.

Monday is an important day because that's when we'll know who is going to be putting our home back together. Many who look at our house from the street and say, "It doesn't look so bad", don't realise that the roof is broken, ceilings are cracked, windows cracked and smashed and the back of the house by the kitchen partially crushed. The saying, "Don't judge a book by its cover", rings true in this case. Protecting what's there from the elements in winter is a feat in itself. In many ways it's easier building a home from scratch than renovating one that's broken. Maybe, as it's being rebuilt, a sense of renewal will start replacing that of loss. Many of us are dealing with our own memories of that minute that changed our lives so profoundly. Our day to day sometimes feels like an eternity. Nothing happens quickly especially when this isn't a one off and hundreds of people are in the same boat with only so many contractors to deal with it all. Still, I wait for that first sound of construction to fill the void of emptiness and silence in a home where there was always music playing, laughter heard and great conversations taking place around the dinner table.

Here's to Monday!