Yesterday, I was in town getting a few groceries.
One of the many people who stopped to ask how we were and if we needed anything observed that I seemed to be coping very well with having lost everything in the fire which gutted the house were were living in.
I replied that a lot of my ability to cope when things went awry came from my mother who was one of those people who just “got on with it” no matter what—also my wife Christine, without whom I would not be even a shadow of the person I am today.
Then I remembered two things from the day of the fire.
The first was the faces of our friends who I began to recognise as some of the people who had arrived in fire trucks all kitted out in fire brigade outfits. A surreal but very welcome sight.
There is nothing in the world like the face of a friend.
The second was a text message I received from Sarah (who managed our rental). I received this message as I watched the fire claim the last of our possessions.
Sarah wrote that she had been in touch with Tim (the owner of the real estate business) and they were looking for a new place for us to live in. This was before I’d even had time to think about anything, let alone where we were going to live.
That was just the beginning, the first of an avalanche, and if I was to list the names of all the people who have offered us kindness and support in so many ways since then I wouldn’t get much else done today—and there’s a lot to be done.
It is true that losing all you possess in a material sense is an overwhelming experience, to say the least.
However, to me, having so many people; family, friends, acquaintances and people I’ve never even met offer every possible assistance imaginable is at least as overwhelming as the event which precipitated this wonderful outpouring of community spirit.
It reminds me very much of the spirit Christine brought to our relationship and which, over many years, has made me (as much as was possible) a better person.
Still, I myself am very uncomfortable with kindness or displays of affection—you can’t imagine how difficult it is for me to write this while I’m in the state I’m in. Lucky you can’t see me.
Of course I must thank Emily in particular for this Facebook avalanche of kindness.
If I remember rightly, my response to Emily when she first suggested asking for help on our behalf was, “Emily, it’s a really lovely thought but we are ok, we’ll be fine.”
Actually, I think that was my second response, my first was, “Don’t you bloody dare Emily.”
It’s how we were brought up, and it’s very difficult to change.
Emily, being Emily, was of course undeterred.
Thank you Emily, and thank you to every single person who has even felt a shadow of sorrow for our plight, and to those who have offered their own possessions to replace those we have lost, Christine and I are grateful beyond measure.
It goes without saying that our lovely new (but quite tiny—in a good way) home will only fit one of most things and, sadly, none of many, so if we can’t accept some of your gifts please understand.
Two things prompted me to begin writing this:
The first was Steve G. who said to me yesterday, “People just want to help you Bill, you should let them.”
The second was something I realised at about 3am this morning when I was thinking about how well I was “coping” with it all and I realised that the reason I haven’t fallen into a pit of despair is because of you.
You caught us.
Every one of you, from that very first text have been holding us up, not letting us fall.
You are how we’re coping.
Our gratitude and best wishes are for you all, and also to the owner of “our” house who has also lost so much and been so kind.
Love,
Bill And Christine
P.S. I cannot thank our families—and extended families—enough, thank you.
Firies, Ambo’s, Police, Dorrigo Hospital, Dorrigo Chemist, all of whom did everything possible to help, especially when we needed things for Christine, thank you.
Honestly, the list grows as I write so thank you everyone. You know who you all are, we love you.
Finally (for now): My mum taught me that there are always many people who are worse off than ourselves. This is true.
