The night of the fire I asked Christopher, “How are you doing, Buddy?”
He shook his head “I’m feeling regret that I wasn’t able to gather some of my belongings,” his voice broke, “I just think I would feel more secure if I had some of my possessions.”
A couple of days later, suited up with fire boots, the fire investigator took him back into his room. Paul and I had laughed that the fire marshall would declare Christopher’s room a total loss, whether or not there was any damage; it was that messy.
He found his wallet, a magnifying glass, a few stuffed animals and the smoky and waterlogged book he’d been reading when he fell asleep the night before. What impressed the fire investigator was that he asked to go into his sisters’ room where he out a few things he thought they would want.
He came home with what looked like a load of rubbish. I sorted through some things that were obviously trash and my sister-in-law, Dawn, has been devotedly washing everything that is washable.
The grieving process has only begun but this was the turning point for Christopher. He will continue to mourn what was lost and he is already being comforted by what remains.