So far, about 200 refugees from New Orleans have been evacuated to the Denver area, and Coloradans have been predictably generous, offering food, clothing, money, shelter and jobs to help them recover from their loss.
But no matter how good these survivors must feel to have a safe, dry place to sleep, as well as food, water, showers, bathrooms, clean clothes and people who care about their plight, they’re also tormented by a loss so profound that most of us can’t imagine how they feel.
My parents endured a devastating experience seven years ago, when a flood destroyed their home in Seguin, Texas. But as bad as it was for them, I can now appreciate how lucky my mother and father were compared to the victims of Hurricane Katrina.
My parents had left town for the weekend, so they didn’t have the harrowing experience of trying to escape the rapidly rising Guadalupe River. When they returned after the water had receded, everything they owned – clothing, photo albums, computers, furniture, washer, dryer, refrigerator, toilets, car in the garage and brick house – was gone. The river had literally scraped the house off its concrete foundation.
They were crushed, but they were also incredibly lucky. The flooding was limited to a relatively small section of town, so they had access to phones, restaurants and emergency services in the rest of the city. Among other things, they could call their children and let us know that they were OK.
It was a blessing that they had five adult children who were not directly affected by the flood. We immediately pooled our resources to help them find a place to stay, purchase food, clothing and other necessities. They also had friends in other parts of the city who came to their aid.
Many of the Katrina victims might not have been lucky enough to have family outside of the affected area. It could be that all of their relatives were impacted by the disaster, so no one in their families was in a position to help them. Some of them still don’t know where their families are, whether they escaped the devastation, whether they’re alive or dead.
Not knowing must be torture. I can’t imagine not having been able to speak to my parents after the Texas flood. I needed to hear their voices, so that I would know that they were OK.
My parents had flood insurance, so within a few months, they had purchased a new home – on high ground – replaced furniture, clothing and decorations, and resumed their lives. They lost a lot, but they were still living in the same town, driving to the same jobs, traveling the same streets, maintaining the same routine and interacting with the same people. Though they lost their home, my parents still had their community.
The loss Katrina victims have suffered is exponentially worse. They had to endure the horrors of the storm, the flooding from the ruptured levee, the isolation, the violent aftermath as people fought to survive, the desperate feeling of abandonment, then, finally, their rescue and relocation. I can’t imagine how much these experiences must haunt them every time they close their eyes and try to sleep.
They’ve lost family members, pets, homes and everything that was normal in their lives. Their neighborhoods are gone, along with their favorite restaurants, churches, streets, friends, jobs, culture and hobbies. Everything familiar has been destroyed.
But they’ll move on. They survived the hurricane, and they’ll survive dislocation. They’ll rebuild their lives – some of them, here in Denver. Although media coverage of their situation will undoubtedly decrease in the weeks and months to come, I hope that we won’t forget about these newest Coloradans. They’ve lost their community, and they’ll need help integrating into ours.
