The raging river clawed ruthlessly at our little community, shaking and whirling us around like a limp rag doll, dropping the whole county — houses, businesses, roads and bridges — into a pile of rubbish.
It’s been a wild ride and we’re still holding on. I’ve been heartbroken, mind-muddled, and feeling such pain for the people and all their losses and damage. I am convinced that the old-timers and the new ones who have joined our community still love our town, and are willing to roll up their sleeves to do the hard work. They’re not opposed to getting their hands dirty and digging through the mud to make Pagosa beautiful again.
There isn’t any isolated place that hasn’t been affected. We are all in the same boat, wondering what to do. Where to start. And, where the money is going to come from?
My children set a plan in motion. “We are moving you to our house. We can take care of you there. The best place for us to wait out these floods is our side of the Blanco River.”
They have taken good care of my Sweet Al and me. We are not that easy to take care of. We evacuated to wait out the floods.
Our children’s home is safe; they still have electricity, gas, water and food in the freezer. They have plenty of beds, plus three recliners for us old folks. Rain and a mudslide came crashing down the Archuleta Canyon, filling their pond full of mud in front, but missed their house.
Everyone will have their stories to tell when everything becomes normal again. It’s going to be a long time coming, I have a feeling.
We have felt the love from everyone. They all asked about us. We are more than fine.
Our neighbor waded through the waters to our home. He said it was dry inside, but still a lot of damage on the outside. The new 500-gallon propane tank, installed after the first flood, broke away from the gas line again. Our well is in question and live wires are in our yard. The electric pole is about to fall. All the cabins are ruined and we have ordered a roll-off dumpster to take care of the debris.
Our son’s apartment took the bulk of the damage. He had 18 inches of water last time, and more this time. Pulling up flooring and throwing away water-soaked furniture, he’s gutted his apartment. He’s got more mud to shovel out.
We’ve been isolated, but we are thankful for all the videos posted on Facebook. We are praying for everyone. We shake our heads as to what has happened. We have talked about the 100-year flood for the past 60 years; I guess we are seeing it. In one of the postings, a lady said she was terrified. That’s a call for prayer. I don’t know who she is, but I’m praying for her.
This time, being with our family and all together, has been valuable. We have taken advantage of the situation to understand and experience the growing changes with my Sweet Al in his limited days.
Like the raging river coming for Pagosa, dementia has violently come for Al’s fragile mind, leaving just a shred of recognition or connection with anything.
His nights and days are turned around. He sneaks out of bed. Someone hears him in the living room. He’s standing at the window in the dark, dropping decorative bottles off the windowsill onto the floor. He has pulled out things from the closet and moved items around our daughter’s kitchen drawers. He’s busy doing his thing, but has put everyone on high alert.
Wrapped up in family love, there isn’t a moment that a story isn’t happening, to be told or laughed about later. Sometimes we just have to laugh. It’s the only way to handle these things that could break a person.
Our faith still holds. Even though everyone has lost so much, God says He has planted heaven in us. It’s a declaration of his protection and restoration. It’s a good thing, because what He has planted in us — heaven’s love, joy and generosity — we have felt from everyone. We are still in the boat. No one that I know of has jumped overboard.
“And I have put My words in your mouth; I have covered you with the shadow of My hand, that I may plant the heavens, lay the foundations of the earth, and say to Zion, ‘You are My people’” — Isaiah 51:16.
Final brushstroke: We all love this community. The people of Pagosa are resilient. Everyone has come together to help each other. We’ve had people from other parts of Colorado offer to come and help dig us out. It might be next spring before it will happen.
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