It hurts, honestly. You feel like you did something to deserve your home being reduced to nothing but ash. You hate yourself for not being there as if you could have done something to stop it. You hate the person or circumstance that you suspect may have caused it to happen. You hate the universe. You can tell yourself that bad things happen to good people, but you will still cry out to the world and ask why it had to happen to you. You start asking for forgiveness even if you weren’t sure that you believed in a higher power, and you pray at night that one day you’ll wake up and it will all go away. You pray that It will all have just been a dream. A nightmare that you get to wake up from, but every day you’ll constantly be reminded of the fire by the apologetic texts, Facebook posts, and local news articles with detailed pictures of the incident.
The fire itself only lasts for a moment, but the anger that you feel doesn’t ever go away. For years, you see things that remind you of items that you once had. You’ll begin by asking yourself where that item is, and perhaps that item is buried in your closet or in a box in the attic. You will believe in that moment that you may see or use that item again until you remember what really happened. You are hit with a wave of anger and sadness because you feel like this item was stolen from you. Whether or not it was something important to you like your late grandmother’s class ring or if it was just a pair of boots you loved that went with every outfit: you’re angry. It hurts.
However, there was no pain worse for me than losing our beloved companions. Our three innocent and loving dogs. It was the first thing that my parents said when they were breaking the bad news to me. I don’t think that I have ever cried as heavily as I did that night. You silently hope that they fell asleep before they felt any pain, but nothing you tell yourself will ever make you feel better about it. Especially when you start thinking about the many different ways you could have saved them. I know that if I had been there I would have ran back into that burning building without a second thought to save them. Even if you begin to accept the situation as something that you couldn’t have controlled you will still hate yourself for not being there, and you may feel this way for the rest of your life.
Rebuilding your life after a fire is frustrating, and I don’t mean the frustration you feel when you can’t get your computer to work or you’re dealing with difficult customers at your job. The frustration you feel turns you into a different person. You start to worry about things that you never thought twice about before. You make sure that the candles are blown out and that the stove is off. You even unplug every electrical item in your house when you know that you’re going to be gone for a long period of time. The situation itself changes you. You rise from the ashes as a pessimistic Phoenix with increased levels of anxiety and depression, and fire never looks the same to you.
Eventually; however, you forgive yourself. You forgive whoever may have been involved, and you forgive the universe for dropping this situation on you. It inspires you and forces you to have a fresh start. Over time, you replace your belongings and you build your living situation and your spirit back up from nothing. It stings a little less when people make jokes about burning someone’s house down because they don’t know any better. You adopt a new dog, not as a replacement for the ones you lost, but to fill that space in your heart that the fire stole and took with it. Eventually, it becomes a part of your past but you still wake up pissed that you don’t have those boots that you loved so much.
