Ten years ago this day rocked my family’s world. April 29, 2005 will not be forgotten, even if the day comes and goes without being recognized each year. Ten years ago I was a senior in high school about to graduate. My family and I went to bed on a regular Thursday night and woke up to something that started a whole new chapter in our lives.
I am writing this for myself to document, remember, and try to allow myself perspective now that time has passed. I am in no way trying to whine or play up how hard of a time my family had. Life happens. There are ups and downs. We had a season of downs, that’s for sure, but thank God our story is not as low as it could have been, or as a lot of other people have experienced. Nobody died. We didn’t deal with a serious illness. I know the situation could have been worse, but I do think what we went through was just about all we could handle at the time.
Last year while pregnant with Owen, his predicted due date was April 29th. Talking about the fire even now, still has such strong emotions and brings to mind so much history. Really we just don’t bring it up hardly ever. I knew the coincidence of Owen’s due date with the fire but no one else seemed to notice. I did mention it after the fact, months after Owen was born. He didn’t choose April 29th to be his birthday anyway so it seemed less relevant as while I was pregnant and everything was looking toward that date. Even though Owen was born a different day, I always had it in my mind that God chose something so simple as a due date, to remind me that He can change bad to good. And really that’s the big picture story of our family’s history in my opinion - how God can take an awful situation and restore it beautifully. He is a God of love, redemption, and restoration.
10 years ago…
It was a normal Thursday night. We all went to bed preparing to go to school and work the next day. I often think of it as happening on April 28, because that was the Thursday “night” that it happened. But technically it was after midnight so it was Friday, April 29th. I’m someone who is pretty good with dates and so this technicality always sticks out in my mind.
Not too long after I’d gone to sleep, I remember waking up, feeling groggy, and hearing noise. Something was going on and not right. Then I heard my dad yelling “Fire!” and for us to wake up and get out of the house. At that moment everything became a blur. I do not remember actually getting out of bed. I do not remember putting on my glasses. And I do not remember slipping into my white sandals that were by my bed and grabbing my cell phone off my night stand, but I must have done all those things because I quickly found myself outside our home in the middle of the night in my leopard print pajama set, with my sandals on my feet and cell phone in hand.
I remember feeling confused and scared. I remember sort of after the fact being terrified because my brother, Ryan, didn’t wake up to my dad’s yelling like the rest of us did. I remember my dad had to run into his room and physically wake him up. We all did get out of the house quickly and just fine. None of us were physically hurt at all. Thank you Lord. Our dachshund, Chica, did die in the fire. That was really difficult and emotional, but we’re focusing on big picture here. I remember Chica ran with us downstairs and started to go through the front door with all of us. She must have gotten scared from the yelling because she was right there with us, and then suddenly turned around and ran back inside. In hindsight someone could maybe have gone back in and found her and brought her out as the fire wasn’t in that part of the house yet. But obviously we weren’t sure what was going on and as much as we loved our dog it didn’t seem like a smart decision. Also there was a police officer that had arrived who was getting us all to move up to the cul-de-sac and stay away from the house.
The fire started in the garage. My parents’ bedroom was directly above the garage and my mom had woken up during the night and noticed something flickering out the window. She has said that her and my dad went downstairs to see what was going on and while the rest of the house seemed okay at that point, when they opened the door to the garage it was engulfed in flames. My mom called 911 and my dad started running and yelling to get us out.
It was surreal standing outside watching our home burn down. I felt terrified. Isolated. Confused. I remember having naive pleading thoughts with God. I was praying asking him to make it start raining. He could just make it rain and put out the fire. Why was it not raining yet? I knew He could do it. I was begging Him to do it. But it never rained that night.
As we stood on our cul-de-sac in our pajamas watching the fire, our neighbors all came out to help and were amazing. They were as comforting as possible in the situation and jumped to action immediately. They brought us clothes, blankets, whatever we needed in the moment. They started planning things we would need in the aftermath. I remember someone thought to figure out a way to order us the contacts we would need and things like that. People organized for us to get clothes, toiletries, everything we would immediately need. We even had someone provide us a cabin to stay at while my parents figured out a place for us to stay more long term. It was amazing how God showed up that night and over the next several days through people’s provision, generosity, and support.
It took longer than I ever thought it could for fire trucks to arrive. I do not clearly remember all of this but I know there was some issue that took even longer for the firefighters to actually be able to do much to help. I think I remember the problem was that there was not a fire hydrant close enough for the trucks to reach. I just remember people starting to arrive and nothing much was being done.
As much of the night is a surreal blur, I do have some very vivid memories that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. The first one was when we were all heading downstairs going out the front door and Chica turned around and ran back inside. I remember all of us screaming and yelling for her to come back outside. I remember us being torn about if someone should go back in to grab her. After that once the fire had spread from the garage, I remember looking in the front door/entry way and seeing what I think was the AC unit, (really I’m not sure what) fall through the top story of the house. I remember hearing a loud pop and cracking sound as a window was blown out once the fire had encompassed the whole first floor. I remember seeing flames flickering out the roof of the house. I remember hearing people talking and saying things about the fire going up through the walls. There was so much smoke filling the sky above the house. It was all just crazy. Eventually the cul-de-sac and street were filled with people and lights and noise from police cars and firetrucks.
I have no clue how my brothers were or who was with them. I don’t think I was with them, or if I was I really don’t remember. I remember just feeling alone the whole time. Maybe we were all standing by each other just taking it all in on our own. I’m not sure. I wish I had thought to try and comfort my brothers and help them somehow. I was the oldest, 18, and if this was so completely terrifying to me, I can’t imagine how much more it was for my younger brothers. I really wish I had tried to comfort them somehow or at least have us be together.
At some point I called Cody. We had been dating for about a year and a half at this point. He was away in College Station finishing up his freshman year at A&M. After the fact he told me that he thought he heard me say that I was in the house while it was on fire. Thank God that was not the case. It was loud from all the background noise and I was crying hysterically so I’m sure I was completely unclear about what was happening. Cody then called his mom, Sue, and in the middle of the night she drove out to be there for us. I remember when she arrived just hugging her and crying.
It felt like the nightmare would never end. It was dragging on and on and somehow seemed like it lasted forever, yet it also felt like it was over so quickly in a big fast blur. At some point someone called my mom’s parents who live outside of Austin and they drove to pick up me and my brothers. This was another vivid memory of the night. I remember getting in their car with my brothers and driving away from the horrible scene filling our street. I couldn’t stop trying to look and watching as we drove away. For some reason I didn’t want to leave.
At my grandparents’ house they have one room that is a more formal room filled with pictures and beautiful things. As kids we were never allowed in there as everything was delicate and breakable; it was sort of like a forbidden room in their house. Ryan and I slept in there and that was the first time I remember being allowed in that room. I have no real timeline for all of this but we had to have arrived at my grandparents in the early morning.
The next day was just as surreal as the night had been. I don’t remember much of it either but have some memories that stand out. We put on other people’s odd fitting clothes and went to Walmart to buy some initial things to wear. It was weird buying complete outfits, down to underwear, all at once and having it be the only thing you were going to be wearing for a while possibly, and yet not caring at all what I was buying. I remember walking through Walmart on this shopping trip feeling like we stuck out like sore thumbs. In clothes that weren’t ours that didn’t fit right, surely everyone could see us and knew something was going on.
I don’t think we stayed at my grandparents another night. I’m pretty sure I remember that the next night our family stayed in the cabin that someone had set up for us. After that we ended up renting a house in the same neighborhood we lived in for about a year while we had a house rebuilt. It was “The Rental House” and that starts the next part of the story, so I’ll try to wrap this up.
A few days after the fire we went back to our home to look at the debris. Somewhere we have some pictures of our burned down home and the ashy remains, but I can’t tell you where those pictures ended up. I remember walking completely around the house and examining everything we could. We looked through windows to try and see inside as much as possible. Everything was 100% burned, black and covered in ash. The smell of smoke and burned plastic and such was overwhelming. Actually there were random things we saw that weren’t burned. It was like the fire decided to just swirl around random things and completely devour something right next to it. Two items sitting side by side, one might have been burned to a crisp and the other left almost untouched. It was weird. For the most part though everything was gone. Our home was burned to the ground and declared a total loss, but we actually were able to save a tiny amount of random things that weren’t totally ruined. A couple pictures in frames that are melted onto the glass and the edges burned, but you can still see the picture okay. I had a dress from my closet and a couple shirts that were fine. Actually I felt really guilty because out of the entire house I think my room and closet were the least destroyed, and I felt awful that I had some things pulled out whereas my brothers didn’t. I never wore my clothes that survived the fire.
I remember also feeling guilty because of the generosity of my friends at school afterwards. I was in band and they all donated and gave me a jar full of money. They also gave me a bag of donated girls clothes in sizes close to me. I was so appreciative and it was all so awesome and generous, but I remember feeling guilty that I was receiving such support when my brothers weren’t -at least not that I remember. I actually just threw out, about a year ago, a pair of pajama pants and a toiletry bag that I received in donations from after the fire.
Going back to school was awful. There was about a month left before graduation. I was an emotional wreck the whole time. I literally had a lot of times where I just lost it and cried during band practice and in classes. I remember putting my head down on my desk in my arms and crying. I cried through one of my AP exams. My friends and teachers were all amazing and supportive. I wish I had somehow been able to pull myself out of the hole I was in before the school year was over. I feel like I completely lost myself and shut down and pulled away from my friends throughout that month. I didn’t feel like myself. I was an emotional mess. I didn’t know how to try and be okay and eventually there isn’t much more anyone can try and say to help.
Smithson Valley just had my class of 2005 high school reunion this past weekend. I didn’t know about it until it happened and I saw someone posted about having gone to it on Facebook. I know it is normal to lose touch with people after high school, but I feel like I lost touch with even my best friends before high school really ended, during that last month when I was there at school, but not really there. I don’t remember hanging out much over that summer before college. I feel like I let myself drop off the face of the earth and never had closure with my friends from high school. Then I started college at Texas A&M and when I went back home to visit it was to The Rental House.
The fire will never just be the fire, although at the time it was. The fire happened; we moved into the rental house and life continued. But looking back, the fire will never just be the fire. The fire was the catalyst to a whole different chapter in our lives. And while nobody ever wants to go through dark times, sometimes it is necessary in order for God to create a story of restoration.
