March 17th, 2011
Six Months After the Fire
Hello Dear Friends,
I’m planning a funeral for my house. I know, another woo-woo Boulder thing, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since the house burned down. I’ve been picturing a gathering of friends up there in my meadow, where we eat and drink, and talk about the good times we had in my wonderful mountain home. We’ll put flowers around the land, and dance on the foundation. Then we’ll tie some prayer flags in the trees and give our blessings to the land to help it heal. I know, pretty woo-woo.
But I’m Irish, after all, and we are rather fond of making a party out of death. When my younger brother died, my father read a quote called, “Life is a Party,” at his funeral, and then later when my father died, my Irish priest uncle, Father Peter Carey, gave a eulogy about my dad and brother and grandparents “mixing drinks in Heaven.” Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Like I said, we Irish like to party, even in our grief.
I think Americans in general are lacking in ritual, another reason for the funeral for my house. We like to move on, to look forward, to get on with it. We don’t wail at funerals, we don’t wear black for a year when someone dies, we think it’s morbid to fill our homes with photos of dead loved ones. We give people about three months to “get over it,” and then expect them to be their Old Self again. Our Old Self – when will people realize there is no such thing?
It is six months since the fire, and the grief is no longer fresh, but it is strong, and lingering. As my mother said, “Honey, each day you’ll reach for something that isn’t there.” And she is so right. The other day I was talking to a friend who said she’d never seen Mel Brooks’ movie, Young Frankenstein. I said, “Seriously? That’s a great movie! I’ll lend it to you… Oh, wait…” Then we both looked at each other, silent and crestfallen. I didn’t have cable up at my house, but I loved watching movies and had over 300 of them. I used to hunt through bins when I was traveling, looking for bargains, classics, hard-to-find Indie films. The 50th Anniversary edition of Gone With the Wind. French films. Everything Mel Brooks ever made. They are now, as friend said, “melted.” (She said she got tired of the term “burned up” and prefers “melted.”) Sizzle, splat, poof. A lifetime of collecting, gone.
These days we have Netflix, and Hulu, and a bunch of places to watch movies on line, but it’s not the same. It’s like the difference between an e-book and a real book. You can touch the cover, read words on real paper, and there is something soothing about that. As the world converts more and more to digital, how do we preserve what’s “real” – those things that don’t disappear when the power goes out or the internet fails?
In my new house, I probably won’t even have room for a movie collection, and who has the time to replace it? The years I spent combing through bins at Blockbuster and small, independent video stores are a thing of the past. I will most likely get on the digital bandwagon, and stream movies, or rent them, and sadly join the 21st century. I may not even buy a DVD player; we’ll see. It’s just another change in this great Sea of Change since the fire.
So I will have a funeral for my house, even though the foundation was condemned and torn up (yes, the metaphor is not lost on me,) because of the excessive heat. Even though right now it’s just a patch of dirt on a burned mountainside, some day it will be my new home. And it is still my Beloved Land. Because I’m Irish, you know, and we are just a wee bit attached to our Land. (“Land, Lassie. Always hold on to the Land!”)
The land endures, and I endure, and my friends and I will bless each other, and put flowers on the grave site of my old house, and envision the new. The Buddhists tie prayer flags at sacred sites to invoke healing, strength, and good fortune, and we will do just that. And in a year or so, when the flags are in tatters, and the prayers are sent out into the world, like wishes on the wind, I will have a new home.
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to You and Yours, and Céad Míle Fáilte (A Hundred Thousand Welcomes.)
Andi O’Conor
(Feisty Irish Fire Survivor)
The idea of a funeral for your house seems so fitting; I don’t find it odd at all. Thank you for another lovely post.
Please put me on the guest list. If at all possible I will be there to document the event so you will have a scrapbook to start over with. :hug:
What a lovely idea…not ‘woo hoo’ at all. I think your land will welcome the blessings and release from the pain it felt and still feels, and return those blessings to you, and it will be glad when you begin building again. She is, after all, Mother Earth and she has gotten to know you over the years. I think you should get a DVD. You never know what you will come across during your travels; books and movies, like old friends, pop up in the most unusual places.
A brilliant idea (no surprise, coming from you), but I would think of it as a memorial event rather than a funeral. But that’s just me.
You’ve been on my mind a lot since the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, as of course many others have lost their homes. That sort of thing can make one’s own situation fresh again.
So, I was glad to see this post. I think a funeral for the house, its memories, joys makes so much sense. I wish I’d thought of this when I’ve lost “mere” things. A shady garden lost to the removal of large lilacs–and the lilacs themselves-come to mind. I’d worked on that garden for 11 years and when I dug everyone up to move them to a shadier spot, I cried. A mindful ceremony of sorts would have been great–I was so caught off guard and surprised by my grief!
I hope the ritual goes well and brings yet more love and peace to you. Remember to bring lots of food and libations! (Maybe pouring a little on the ground as yet another way of blessing the earth?)
So many will join you and Nellie at the memorial service/funeral for your house–we’ll bring plants, seeds, trowels, crying towels, drinks (not soft ones either), and we’ll honor the flags. You’ve created a caring community.
I agree that we Americans lack rituals–and we can learn so much from cultures that do routinely gather to celebrate everything from birth to death to the old saints and pagan gods. Its those rituals–enacted over the years–that make the land even more sacred.
A funeral for a house, or more properly, a memorial service, is a really great idea. It puts a bit of closure (that overused word!) on a chapter of the evolving life of your land, and of your life’s adventure. (Is there ever really “closure?” I think not. You never get over it, you get used to it.)
The land endures. Andi endures. From ashes, a new beginning. It will never be the same, and as you wrote, you will always be the person who has lost everything, twice. But it will be good, and it will be home. And one day, you will be sitting at home guffawing at Madeline Kahn singing the praises of the Monster’s prowess. In that moment, you will forget the melted DVD and will be singing along with “Puttin’ On The Ritz,” and then you will know you are really home.
Andi, Beautifully written. You’ve been in my thoughts and I’ve been hoping the best for you. As your Irish soul-sister, I can really relate to the Irish “move on” attitude, mixed with the “ah well, at least ya’ have da memories.” (My aunt said that to me the day my dad died.) And sure enough, he had a great send-off party, as we called it.
Whatever you want to call yours, I’d love to be a part of your ritual and putting your home to rest. I think it’s impossible to move on properly without honoring what was. Rebuilding everything anew is hard enough. I’d be happy to attend your home funeral and raise a glass to your new one!
Sláinte,
Deirdre
Wow, I think this is a wonderful idea. I, too, am Irish (grandmothers – Catherine O’Hurley and Mary O’Connell) and agree we do not encourage ritual in our lives. The older I get the more I understand the need for ritual especially when it comes to grief. A traditional Irish wake and funeral should be a perfect way to honor and pay tribute to the memories of the land and your life in your house.
Andi,
As I was flying back home from Denver to SFO Int’l Airport with in hours after the fire had started I can see high above in the sky the fire and smoke. I said a prayer to myself that no one would be hurt and no houses would be lost. Little did I know that three days later my local Gas & Electric Company (PG&E) would be responsible for blowing up my neighborhood in San Bruno, CA. 38 houses were lost, 8 people died,many people suffered from burns and many more houseswere damaged including mine. My partner and I gathered up the dogs and cat(thank god the cat had a tail) we drove away with just the clothes on our back. Thank God our vehicles were in the garage as it save them from heat damage. The heat was close the 1600 degrees(gas fire). As I looked back when I left(with in five minutes after the blast) in fear two house down from me was fully engulfed in flames. We did not expect to come back to our house. Yes, my house was spared due to a wind shift and the house next door having vinyl siding. There was no water as the main water main was blown up. It took 89 minutes for PG&E to manually turn off the gas main then the fire dept could bring in water from the neighborhood next to us. In the mean time they had no choice but the bring in the helicopters and drop fire retardant.
Six months my life is on limbo.I had to put my pride and joy(Zara-my dog) to sleep two months after the blast due to PTSD. I do not feel grounded what so ever. Some days I wonder if I would have been better off having my house burn down. Would I have been better off not being home during the blast? I wake up and go to sleep seeing devastation as all the houses to the right of me except one(which has major damage) is gone. My close friends lost everything. I helped them sift through their ashes.. I hope to never have to do this again. Half of my repairs are complete, still waiting for a new roof and to have the house painted.
Hopefully this summer some of the houses will start to rebuild. I am not looking forward to the rebuild, constant noise , construction trucks and dirt and God knows whatever flying in the air but I am looking forward to the end product when my neighborhood is once again complete.
I have read through all your posts. Your posts have touched me in which no words can describe.
I look forward to reading about you your next chapter in your life and the rebuild of your house. I will have a toast in your honor on the day of your house’s funeral.
All the best,
Marla Shelmadine
San Bruno CA Fire/Blast Survivor
It is wonderful to see people connect like, finding one another alive amidst the sorrow and ashes. For everyone’s losses I am deeply saddened, but losing Zara like that really cut to my heart–the losses that continue to happen long after the fire is out and the event is no longer front page news. Thank you both for sharing.
Andi,
Having lost my husband three months ago and, like you, being Irish, I have a deep appreciation for your plan to have a funeral for your house. I didn’t actually have a funeral for my husband. No wake, either. Just a party. It was a grand time, bringing together people (some of them people I’d never met before that day) who knew and loved him. Some hadn’t seen one another in years.
Your mother is right. Today I put a piece of music on to listen to and it swept me back in time and pulled me up short for a time. I’ve no doubt that will keep happening for some time to come.
But one bit of proof that we carry on in the most amusing way is this: As soon as I typed “Having lost my husband three months ago . . .” I could hear his voice in my head with the well-worn joke he’d made about others and now is making about himself, if only in my mind, “Have you found him yet?”
Marla’s comment was stunning and touching. So much in this life to keep the heart open if we let it.
Melanie Mulhall
A great idea – and it doesn’t need to be only for a fire!
We are selling a home that has been in the family for 76 years, and it’s very difficult to part with. Our family all grew up there and a lot of fond memories will become faded when we can no longer visit our old house…
Maybe a funeral and wake is the way to go!
We’re in the same situation – you look at the height measurements on the door frame and realize just how much of your life is wrapped up in your home. It’s going to be tough to let the house go, but we’re focusing on the positive of a new family getting to create new memories in our old family home.
Bill,
I hope you had a good memorial service for your house! Mine was very moving – I’ll be posting about it soon.
Take Care,
Andi
When a human experiences grief it is natural to (at some point) have a ceremonial closure to the experience. For instance, when some one you loves dies, the funeral helps you validate, express and honor your grief. By honoring the grief, it helps you move forward. When my uncle died, most of the family was in another state, so we held two services so that our family could get the closure for the grief.
I think it is actually a smart thing to do to have a ‘funeral’ for your home. I bet you’ll feel differently if you do. Its not like the loss disappears totally, but emotional you don’t hold onto the pain in the same way.
Post pictures for us!
I was musing the other day about how incredibly awful it would be to lose your home to a fire. Some would say it’s just “stuff,” but to lose all the “tools” of your life, and the mementos and keepsakes, and other things you loved . . . I really wonder how I would cope.
Well said Bob!
Hopefully readers will be inspired to take some time to sort out valued possessions and important documents to be grabbed in an emergency exit.
I hope the wake was/will be as wonderful as the memories created in your house.
Andi, I cannot help but admire your attitude of accepting things. Sure some of them are hard to deal with (for me at least). I only wish I could do that or have that kind of bravery sort of thing. It must take a lot of heart to even visualize what happened don’t you think?
Going through the lines and thought of the post is new experience for me. I could use some of these and apply it for myself. I personally don’t know any Irish but I can say they are one of the few extraordinary people. I still can’t imagine my house blazing or loss of any valuable thing but surely I’d love to try the Irish way.
Aiden @ the Chicago CPA firms club blog
What a wonderful idea! Include me as a guest!
Anything that brings greater acceptance and peace is a good idea. Good for you for trying to find a way to reclaim your life.
I think a funeral for your home is a fine idea. What better way to have closure and move on. I assume you’ve already had the funeral, any pictures to post ?
I’m not Irish, so it is less understood. Well indeed, a traditional Irish wake and funeral should be a perfect way to honor and pay tribute to the memories of the land and your life in your house. thanks for sharing, my knowledge grew.
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Ever since my house burnt down, I see the moon more clearly, I gazed upon the Evens that have fallen in me, I saw Evens that I had held in my hands, but let go, I saw promises I did not keep, Pains I did not sooth,Wounds I did not heal, tears I did not shed, I saw deaths I did not mourn,Prayers I did not answer, doors I did not open, doors I did not close, Lovers I left behind, And dreams I did not live, I saw all that was offered to me, that I could not accept. I saw the letters I wished for, but never received; I saw all that could have been, but never will be. — Gregory Colbert