I spent much of my childhood in the tornado alley of Texas, and I worked for FEMA helping with major tornado recovery. But today is my first personal loss.
I lost a relative overnight to the tornado outside Seneca, Missouri. She lived, as do many people in rural areas, in a mobile home. Yes, it had all the required tie-downs, but tie downs are no match for a tornado of any size.
She couldn't leave her home for safety in a "bar
ditch" as we call those drop-offs alongside roadways. She was in her
bed. Even so, she gets around on a motorized wheelchair and was on
oxygen. Utimately, she made it to a ditch, but not under her own steam.
She landed there, with her beloved husband still clinging to her,
trying to protect her from injury. A neighbor came by and took them to
the hospital, but she didn't make it.
My family grieves this
Mother's Day, especially my 82-year-old cousin in Galena, Kansas, for
who
m my Missouri cousin was her closest relative. They kept each other
company via daily email conversations. [Lot's of "cousins" in this
blog, but I can't possibly explain the relationships--both women on are
the Armitage side of my grandmother's family.]
I
learned from my years working for FEMA that one can't measure how "bad"
a disaster is, that if it affects you or your family, it's the worst.
How true.
My Mother's Day advice: Pull your loved ones close,
even by phone or email. Remember fondly those who are no longer with
us, no matter their (or our) foibles. Love them for the good they
represent. Reach out with your heart for those who are grieving today.
