The Road Home

Interstate 35 is a north–south Interstate Highway stretching from Duluth, Minnesota, to Laredo, Texas. When I lived in Duluth my boyfriend, now my husband, and I used to drive south on Interstate 35 to visit his family in New Ulm, Minnesota several times a year.  When driving through the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul we would take 35W passing through Minneapolis.

Over the years we traveled home to New Ulm from the many different areas in the country where we've lived. 35W felt like home. Even though we are over an hour from home when we turn onto 35W the road has a familiarity that feels comfortable and brings up nostalgic feelings. 35W means we'll see friends and family very soon. We'll stop at Dairy Queen because we do every time. (We do this after we turn off of 35W but we can look forward to it as soon as we turn onto the highway.)

On July 2nd, 2011 we received a devastating phone call. The Bed and Breakfast owned by Jason's sister Bobbi had burned over night killing her, her two children and three guests of the B and B. News like this is incomprehensible when it comes and we went into shock. We had to figure out how to get ourselves, our three children and our nephew (the child of Jason's youngest sister) to Minnesota within 24 hours; that was the only thing in my mind. I barely remember how we managed it. We got everyone onto the plane. We sat in seats. We got off the plane. We were in a bubble with a mission: get to New Ulm.

As we pulled onto 35W the bubble of denial became fragile.The familiar road poked at the bubble that was protecting us from the horror we were about to walk into. When this kind of tragedy hits it's too large to comprehend. But as we approached New Ulm the reality of the situation started to intrude.  A sick feeling crept into the car and rode with us all the way home.

We arrived home. We grieved. We worried terribly about those left behind by this deadly fire. We wondered why. We buried our beloved family members. I tried endlessly to change reality by imagining all the ways in which it could have ended differently. I wished and prayed and played through all of the ways that everyone could have been saved. This thinking can easily drive you crazy, especially when all that was needed was a couple of minutes. A couple of minutes might have changed the outcome for six people. If I talk about this too much even know I can still make myself a bit crazy. Love was what got us through. It flowed to us from all areas of our lives. Friends both new and old came forward with words of comfort. Our family made it through together. They are so strong. I cannot describe the pain of losing a sister-in-law and two nieces.  Added to that was the pain of seeing my husband lose his sister and his nieces who he had just been cuddling (in the case of three-year-old Savannah) and teasing (in the case of 15-year-old Abby) two months previous.  To see my mother-in-law suffer the loss of her daughter and her grandchildren was and is one of the most heart wrenching experiences of my life.

After two weeks of being with our family we had to go home. As we drove to the airport I had the sense of the entire world being different. Nothing would ever be the same. The sun still comes up every day and the children have to eat and the dog needs a walk and it seems impossible that the sun can rise on a world where people can't get out in time. Where fire alarms go off and six people are still killed. The ride to the airport was quiet. My beloved farmland rolled by the car, the memories of trips made many years ago, and the sense of journey poked holes in my armor and I started feeling the intense pain and nostalgia that would haunt me for many months. That drive was the first step back into life. 

This is my road home. I'm driving myself toward the innermost desires of my heart, sometimes discerning what those are in the process. I will move toward family, friends, nature, creativity, connection with people, and opening up to the world. It is my journey shared. I do not intend this blog to catalog the fire and the following grief but this is where I must begin. The fire was a life-defining event and it is where I must begin. I was on a path and I got thrown out into the darkness. Now I must find my way.

This journey began on 35W, the road home.