This is the last "piece" about this. . . at least from me.
After Rita things slowly (mind melting slow) started to move forward. Eventually we were allowed in Orleans parish to assess the damage to the grandparents home. I took a few days off work (I'd found a job by this point). It was forceful reminder of everything that had happened. I practically grew up in their home, spending most of my summers there while my mom worked. It was obvious when we pulled up that it was a total loss. While the building was still standing there was a stillness to it that spoke volumes. That with the brightly painted 'X' with numbers stood as ugly reminder of how many lives (human and pets) were lost. The door was barricaded shut by the fridge which had fallen over as it floated around the kitchen. The back storm door was locked from the inside so you couldn't open it to get to the back door.
Being pint sized I was able to slip through the front door between the fridge and the door. I had to climb over so much...stuff...to get through the house and to the back door. Of course the lock was sticking (water will do that) so it took me a while to finagle it open. Every second I stood there in the dark flooded house my heartbeat picked up. I felt like I wasn't alone although I knew I was. My fear was running high. It was at least 100 degrees and humid inside, obviously with no breeze. Having that stupid but necessary mask on wasn't helping. I ended up having to break the storm door by kicking it repeatedly (grandma wasn't happy but it was the only way). Once inside, we got most of the windows open and I started the horrible task of documenting this tragedy in pictures.
That 1st day we didn't do much except walk around in a daze, trying to wrap our brains around what had happened. We KNEW what happened but to be standing there in the middle of it, seeing the water line from the not quite 8 feet of water, seeing all their material possessions, memories, and collections destroyed in one fateful moment as the waters came barging in. There were many trips back to their former home. Some I was there for, others I was not. Each time we tried to salvage what we could and trash what we couldn't. You would think as the days went on, it got easier...but it didn't. If anything it got so much harder. Because the more you dug around, the more mangled memories you found. Good and bad, happy and sad...all of them broken by raging waters.
At one point I was mucking about in their bedroom, I was the only one who could fit through the tiny opening...I had to clear debris (I am pint sized, NOT EASY) to finally wedge the door open enough. I found my mom and dad's wedding album. It was on the top shelf in a closet. It was okay! I mean a little damp but only at the bottom. Most of the pictures were saved. Granted my parents are divorced but this is still part of history, part of MY history and it gave us a little glimmer of hope that not everything was lost. I also managed to shimmy my way into the attic to see what I could salvage. It was very bright and had fresh air, thanks to the two ginormous holes ripped through the roof. This time my spidey senses were spot on. I was NOT alone. My hidden companion hissed and growled and had glowing eyes. Could of been a cat, could of been a racoon...I didn't stick around long enough to find out.
It took many, many hours to go through the entire house. This is 50+ years of stuff. I ended up with a few items my grandma couldn't take but didn't want to toss or put in storage. They were items that held a special place in my memories. Nothing of monetary value but invaluable to me.
Once done with their house I was called into action again by the other side of my family. My paternal grandma's house was also damaged and uninhabitable. While it wasn't flood waters for her, the gaping holes in the roof allowed the driving rain to...well rain inside. It caused insane amounts of damage. I helped clear out her stuff as well. Once it was all said and done I said "If I never step foot in a flooded house again, it will be too soon." Oh how those words would come back and haunt me 7 years later on the anniversary of this catastrophic storm.
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