You Don't Know This, But...
Saturday will be a year since the tornado. I remember it as if it were yesterday. We had lost power and it was quiet. There was no humming of the air conditioning. Computers were down, no phone ringing, and in the silence the noise of the alert coming across the phone.
There are the subconscious things that occur. Questions that come to mind. How could so much damage happen within the space of less than a minute? How could a breeze turn into a locomotive? How could trees that have lived for a century or more be pulled out of the ground and tossed as if they were matchsticks? And how could the house survive when it's being battered like this?
People still ask about that afternoon with acute fascination. They didn't experience it so want to through the stories we share. They want me to measure how afraid I was at the time. It's not something that can be measured, nor something I want to continue to recall.
Almost a year has passed and I'm still "hearing" the sounds, amplified in memory probably forever.
Today, Joel Haslam from CTV came back to the neighbourhood to highlight one of the amazing people who was there for us in the aftermath, James Carty from Carty Tree Removal. James and team were taking down yet another damaged tree across the street and we were out there watching in fascination. James is a one of a kinder. When I thanked him yet again for helping us in so many ways, he told me, "We all did what we had to do", but that's not true. He did what he could do because of who he is — a caring individual who was there to help, not benefit from our trauma.
You don't know this, but I'm sure he didn't make a cent on the work he did here. Not that he didn't deserve to, but he made sure that everything he could do to help clear the mess so we could rebuild was gone. He did it with caring and compassion.
Tracy, one of the paramedics that was on call after the tornado has no idea that just having her there made all the difference in the world. She and her sidekick, medic therapy dog, Max brought comfort, a sense of "You'll be OK, we have your back", and a modicum of calm in the midst of the noise and commotion of cleanup, chain saws, roof tarping, fire trucks, police cars and all the rest. In the middle of it all, she checked in with people walking, some in a daze, let kids and adults alike be distracted for the moment at least, by Max. I felt blessed in the middle of all this.
Our community has always been tight but now, it's even stronger. We come together this weekend to celebrate that, remember what we've all been through together, to thank those who went above and beyond and just make sure we're all OK.
Slowly but surely, we're all rebuilding, but our relationships, well, they're more solid than any structure could ever be.
Standing outside in the powerful sunshine, something we didn't have pre-tornado because of the canopy of trees, I looked around and realized we all find hidden reserves of courage and resilience we didn't know we had. We won't get back what was lost but we are building something new and beautiful. Broken trees are being replaced with healthy ones which will thrive and grow tall. In our neighbourhood we continue to check in with each other, stop to see if we can lend a neighbour a helping hand or an ear to listen and will come together in celebration.
A promise to myself is to remember to finish the sentence, "You didn't know this, but..." to people who should know how much they mean to me, how grateful I am for their support and never take it for granted again.
There are the subconscious things that occur. Questions that come to mind. How could so much damage happen within the space of less than a minute? How could a breeze turn into a locomotive? How could trees that have lived for a century or more be pulled out of the ground and tossed as if they were matchsticks? And how could the house survive when it's being battered like this?
People still ask about that afternoon with acute fascination. They didn't experience it so want to through the stories we share. They want me to measure how afraid I was at the time. It's not something that can be measured, nor something I want to continue to recall.
Almost a year has passed and I'm still "hearing" the sounds, amplified in memory probably forever.
Today, Joel Haslam from CTV came back to the neighbourhood to highlight one of the amazing people who was there for us in the aftermath, James Carty from Carty Tree Removal. James and team were taking down yet another damaged tree across the street and we were out there watching in fascination. James is a one of a kinder. When I thanked him yet again for helping us in so many ways, he told me, "We all did what we had to do", but that's not true. He did what he could do because of who he is — a caring individual who was there to help, not benefit from our trauma.
You don't know this, but I'm sure he didn't make a cent on the work he did here. Not that he didn't deserve to, but he made sure that everything he could do to help clear the mess so we could rebuild was gone. He did it with caring and compassion.
Tracy, one of the paramedics that was on call after the tornado has no idea that just having her there made all the difference in the world. She and her sidekick, medic therapy dog, Max brought comfort, a sense of "You'll be OK, we have your back", and a modicum of calm in the midst of the noise and commotion of cleanup, chain saws, roof tarping, fire trucks, police cars and all the rest. In the middle of it all, she checked in with people walking, some in a daze, let kids and adults alike be distracted for the moment at least, by Max. I felt blessed in the middle of all this.
Our community has always been tight but now, it's even stronger. We come together this weekend to celebrate that, remember what we've all been through together, to thank those who went above and beyond and just make sure we're all OK.
Slowly but surely, we're all rebuilding, but our relationships, well, they're more solid than any structure could ever be.
Standing outside in the powerful sunshine, something we didn't have pre-tornado because of the canopy of trees, I looked around and realized we all find hidden reserves of courage and resilience we didn't know we had. We won't get back what was lost but we are building something new and beautiful. Broken trees are being replaced with healthy ones which will thrive and grow tall. In our neighbourhood we continue to check in with each other, stop to see if we can lend a neighbour a helping hand or an ear to listen and will come together in celebration.
A promise to myself is to remember to finish the sentence, "You didn't know this, but..." to people who should know how much they mean to me, how grateful I am for their support and never take it for granted again.
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