Loss

This morning I am trying to find things to be grateful for after the loss of my childhood home.

My family on the steps of my dad and stepmom's home, August 2010.

Approximately 9pm, January 4, 2014.

Approximately 12:30am, January 5, 2014

Approximately 1am, January 5, 2014

The morning after, January 5, 2014

The morning after, January 5, 2014

The morning after, January 5, 2014

The morning after, January 5, 2014

At the top of the list is the fact that Dad and Carole are safe. But my mind is plagued with the little things that were lost. Closest to their heart is their dear cat, Zoe, who was trapped in the house.

Also lost was my dad's Santa suit. For years, he has spread joy over the Christmas season playing Santa all around central Minnesota.

My dad is also a talented artist who has made wire sculptures for more than forty years. All of the sculptures below (and many for which we don't have photos) were lost, as well as my son's birthday present which was nearly complete: a space shuttle.

Physical copies of my first book that my dad had bought and been collecting to give to anyone who was a child of divorce.

Fortunately, there are more available on Amazon! 

The hat we gave Dad so he could call our son as Sinterklaas each December 5.

Carole collected Delft for most of her adult life. As a Dutch-American family, we had fun in Delft this summer picking out items to add to her collection. The whole bathroom had a Delft theme.

Countless pictures that can't be replaced, my baby shoes coated in copper, gifts I've given therm over the years, the grate filled with  items my brother and I sent flying down when we were kids, my sister's childhood treasures and pageant clothes...So many memories in the ashes. 

My mom and dad bought the house and acreage when I was four and threw themselves into renovating the house: adding a bathroom so we didn't have to use the outhouse anymore, Dad built the kitchen cabinets and island himself, Mom picked out a wall to ceiling photo as wall paper in their room. The huge wall-in closets were my secret hideaways as a little girl. 

The house shortly after we moved in. My mom was doing dishes in the sink where we had to pump water. 

It was in that house that my childhood ended when my parents divorced. My most vivid memory in that house was mom leaving it.

After the divorce, I went to live with my dad, but still had a room, and toys, and clothes at "The Farm." When I was 14, my dad remarried and the farm house became Carole's house. In 1987, my brother graduated and moved out, and my youngest sister was born (though not in that order). In 1990, I graduated from high school, moved out of Minnesota have never moved back. Living now with my own family in Ohio, we aren't able to get back often.

Our last visit was Labor Day weekend 2012, when my sister Liz had her rehearsal and dinner there. 

Santa Elmer made a guest appearance.

Dad loves finding books as gifts. 

Goodbye, house.

I've been running non-stop between calls to my sisters, sister-in-law, and dad and doing what I can from across the country. I don't yet have to words to be eloquent about my feelings, but this is the big "project" consuming this blogger's time.

If you'd like to stay updated, join the FB page we've set up: Help Elmer and Carole Abbas get back on their feet.

We've also set up a Rally.org page for those who are willing and able to provide financial help: Abbas Rally Page

Updated: 

Fox 9 in the Twin Cities did a story on the fire.

A stormchaser who knows my dad filmed the fire and wrote a wonderful post about it with stunning, heartbreaking photos.

My sister made this image using the verse used at their weddingl

Linked to:

 Grace Langdon  * How Do You Do It *  Hi! It's Jilly * Just Us Four * Krafty Kards, Etc.

Print this post