by Sarah J. Blake
September 2, 2005
Indiana often gets fairly high winds during the fall and winter. I struggled a lot with memories of Frances during these times, but eventually I learned to accept these winds as normal and to remember that the house I live in had withstood many of these winds. I was strangely comforted during a winter storm when I heard someone say, "It's like a hurricane out there!" Somehow I felt less hysterical after that.
I wanted to offer a bed or two--I have sleeping space for three... My parents can't handle it emotionally, and they live downstairs and I need to be respectful of their emotional needs. It's difficult because my space is really all I have that I can offer in the way of help--I have no money or other resources.
Then again, I remember a comment I read. These people are going to need help for a long time. When the physical evidence is cleared away, they'll be expected to move on as if nothing had ever happened. Who will be there? ... Maybe that is part of the point of what I went through last year. I got not a scratch from Frances; but it's an experience I will never forget. If I had lost my home or my cats or Meghan or a family member... If I had fallen behind in life because I couldn't go to school... If I had been stuck up on a rooftop... If I had had to endure symptoms because I had to spend days in a shelter with no meds and no CPAP... And would I ever forget those sounds and smells...? No, not really. I would learn to go on anyway, but I would never forget them, just as I don't forget the traumas in my own life. They are things I bury because they aren't things anyone really wants to hear. But sometimes I need a place to unveil them--and so will they. I can't help now... But I hope that when the time is right, if someone needs that place, I can provide it... Maybe my home can't be a place of immediate shelter... But maybe someday it can be a place of healing for someone who has become a friend and who can visit here for a time of healing.