*This post was written and published with permission. Noah and M reserve the right to write their story in their own words, or a follow up, which I will publish if they choose. This is written from my perspective as Noah's mom, living in a different state, unable to be with him.
As I'm typing this post, my eyes keep wandering to a sticker on my computer: "and if not, He is still Good." He is still God. He is still Abba. Tonight, I am immensely grateful for this. For Him. For the safety of my child and his girlfriend. MY childREN.
I have yet to stop whispering quiet thank you's to Abba.
Early this morning*--3 am--brought a phone call no one ever wants to receive, especially parents. Make sure your kids know no matter the time, no matter their age, no matter how close or far apart you are, they can always, ALWAYS call. The absolute terror I felt seeing his name on Shawn's Caller ID. I knew it was bad, not just because of the time, but because he called only Shawn and it wasn't a FaceTime call. The only reason I heard Shawn's phone ring was because I was battling insomnia. Did my subconscious sense something?
I never want a phone call like that one ever again.
"M, the boys** and I are safe, but our apartment is on fire."
The distress in my son's voice.
Groggy from sleep, Noah's words jolted us wide awake.
Practically yelling at Shawn, WHAT HAPPENED WHAT IS WRONG ARE THEY OKAY, yelling at him to put the phone on speaker, my panic rising.
We couldn't get the details fast enough for our own relief, but did our best to give Noah the patience he needed from us so he could get his thoughts collected and words out.
I've never wanted to be able to reach through a phone so badly.
Today I'm very grateful, unable to describe how relieved I am, and I cannot put into words the ache I feel from being so far from my son and M during this time.
I need to see them for myself. I need to hold them. I need to hug them hard.
If I could've hopped on a plane this morning at 3 am, I would be there by now. I need to be with my kids. That far away, my kids need me to be with them. That far away, I need them to be with me.
I kept it together while we talked him through it early this morning, but lost it as we hung up with each other, as I laid in bed wondering how I was supposed to go back to sleep after that (I didn't). More tears made their way out when we found the videos of the active fire, and again later, when Noah sent us photos of the apartment building (no, I will not be posting those). My son walked away from that. It's a miracle everyone--anyone--walked away from it. It all feels very surreal. They all made it out as the third floor collapsed into the second, as the second story stairwell collapsed into the first story stairwell. Seeing my son so defeated killed me, and seeing M's face puffy from crying broke me. I can't fix this for them. I can't make this better. Every time I see the photos and videos and hear his words in my mind, I get that hitch in my chest and tears push forward from the back of my eyes.
I have to keep repeating to myself: They're okay. They're safe. They made it out okay. Everyone is safe. They're alive. They're okay.
Just when I thought I'd cried everything I had inside me, the littles approached us with their savings. Having overheard us talking about what Noah and M need, how much, how we're getting it to them, and so on, they'd run upstairs and grabbed their piggy banks, asking us to send their money to Noah and M. Avery is very concerned--his heightened anxiety has sent my own anxiety through the roof--and Ezra keeps repeating, "At least they're safe, that's what matters!" (This sounds like a perfectly normal, appropriate thing to say, but please understand, as an autistic--as my 'most' autistic child--he's repeating what he hears us say, so he has very little concept of what happened and what all of this means.)
I can't fix this for them. There's no magic wand, no snapping of fingers, no spell to chant to make this all go away. All of this is far beyond my control, and I really don't deal well with beyond-my-control situations on a good day, so imagine how this is going right now. This is one of those times I have to trust Noah and M to handle this on their own (they're doing a fantastic job--I really admire the way they're trudging forward and dealing with this, I would've folded into a pill bug in the corner at this point, but I'm seeing so much in Noah the man he's become), and trust the insurance company, Red Cross and other helpers to do their jobs and fill my role. I really admire Noah and M for their courage, the way they’ve forged ahead, handled the situation. I know they’ve (rightfully so) crumpled a few times. But they’re amazing. Even if I was there, I still wouldn’t be able to fix it. I hate this for them, but damn, they’re amazing. I’m so proud of them.
Talking with one of my best friends the next day, I lamented how just when you think your kids can't possibly scare you anymore than the last incident, they up the ante--or life does, at least. With Noah, we've been through a knife fight on a missions trip, a school lockdown his freshman year due to a student with gun, firefighting, moving as far as he did, and now this. The word terrified doesn't even begin to cover it. One night when Noah was at the station, a deputy showed up on our doorstep at 10 pm with a jury summons, but the fear I immediately felt having a deputy at my home so late was beyond compare. When he told us why he was here and why so late, I nearly leapt at him: "JURY DUTY???? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU JUST PUT ME THROUGH IN THE PAST 30 SECONDS???" He had to deliver a second summons a week later; that time he started out with, "Your son is fine, I'm just giving him more paperwork." It's very possible I told him "stop doing this to me!" Noah has officially met his allowance of hair-raising, gray-hair-causing, ulcer-inducing events. Someone be sure to tell him that, okay?
The important things:
They are safe, as are the other 62 residents. All pets except for one hamster have been accounted for (that does sadden me, as it was most likely a child's pet), including a kitty the firefighters found during their search and salvage. The poor guy escaped his owner's arms in his panic the night of the fire; he spent a day on oxygen in critical condition, but he's recovering well and his people have him back. Noah and M made it out with the boys, and the clothes on their backs and not much else (Noah doesn't have even a pair of socks right now). They still have Noah's computer and all of their tools, so they are able to return to work easily enough, and Noah won't miss his classes. M grabbed Noah's baby blanket, among other items of importance (idiotically, the first thing I blurted out to Shawn was "He lost his blankie," which made me cry, so knowing he still has it made me cry harder), including the watch we gave him for his 21st birthday, which he wants to turn into a heirloom for their children.
I see the way she loves him and that makes me love her more. She 'gets' him. Like we told them, if they can survive this together, they'll be able to withstand anything. But damn, what a way to begin life together.
This could’ve been so much worse and I’m trying to not dwell on that. They had her parents’ home to go to after the fire. They’re safe and healthy. The boys are safe and healthy. All the residents, including a beta fish, a cat who was found hiding in a washing machine, and a dog locked in a crate (please be kind to this owner--please remember this was beyond her control and she would never purposely put her dog in harm's way) who survived the fire, are safe and healthy. Help is pouring in left and right. There might be a few things they’re able to recover. Noah’s insurance agent has been phenomenal. The important thing is it wasn’t worse.
You want to know the dumb, ironic, thank-you-baby-Jesus, hug-her-sister-for-me thing? They are alive because of a fight M had with one of her sisters. Noah and M were still up talking about it when they heard a big boom of thunder, saw the lightning, and the vent in their room sparked. Then they realized they saw and smelled smoke, then saw it billowing up from the roof. Their smoke alarms didn't go off; if they'd been asleep they might... I can't even say the words. I won't. They might not have heard the third floor alarms. They might not have seen the spark in their vent. They might not have investigated the boom, alarms and spark, which means they might not have seen the smoke from the roof. Most of the other residents were already asleep as Noah and M went about floor to floor, banging on doors to get people out. Saved by a fight, of all things. The smoke detectors on their floor weren't working, the sprinklers failed, and rumor has it, the hydrants didn't have water, nor was the building up to code, despite having passed inspection. A brand new apartment building my son chose because he thought it would be safest, nearly became a death trap.
Each time I'm tempted to entertain the 'what ifs', I'm reminded to look for the helpers: Residents from other buildings left their own beds in that wee hour to check on everyone and offer clothing, extra rooms, extra beds, couches and transportation to hotels, friends' homes, wherever, and anything else that was needed. My son, M and the boys have a safe place to stay while they wait on a new apartment, they have food in their bellies, and they're still able to work. They both have renter's insurance, so even though they lost everything, it will be replaced. My children cannot be. The Red Cross and a local thrift store have stepped in to provide necessities and help with what is needed. Furniture has been donated to the victims. I have a friend out there who offered to help out how she could. Others are stepping in and offering help, filling gaps. As the firefighters began the search and salvage portion of the job, they've been able to return some belongings to residents. An outpouring of love and concern from our friends, all of them immediately asking, "What do they need?" My niece's first question: "Are you okay? Are you ok after hearing this? I'm on my way over, I don't care it's 4 am!"
They're okay. They're safe. They made it out okay. Everyone is safe. They're alive. They're okay.
*the fire was three weeks ago
**the 'boys' are cats
