Devastation at Harward Hollow

This is truly one of the hardest posts I have ever had to write.
Hooooo... deep breath.
Okay, here we go.

Saturday evening, I was sitting in the front yard at some of our cousins beautiful home, and I was commenting to another cousin on how beautiful the lightning looked.  It was a cloudy night and each bolt of lightning lit up the whole sky.
It really looked beautiful.

Shortly after this conversation, I asked Mike's sister if she knew what time it was. 

She said 8:38 p.m. 

Little did I know that at that exact moment, one of the very bolts of lightning that I was so admiring only moments ago, was causing some pretty life shattering devastation for my family.

First of all, let me tell you a little bit about a magical place for my family called  
"Harward Hollow".
Eleven years ago, our family began building a cabin, log by log and nail by nail.

It took a lot of blood, sweat, tears and love to get it to the place we would come to know and love as this.

I can't even put a number on how many wonderful memories have been created here.  Family, friends, and everyone in between have been able to join in and create some wonderful and cherished memories with us there.

Tragically, all of that came to an end at approximately 8:30 p.m. on Saturday, August 27, 2011.
Horror and tragedy struck Harward Hollow, literally.

Miraculously, no one was at the cabin this weekend.  That is extremely unusual for the summer.  Any other time, someone would have been there.  My Mom and Dad go up practically every weekend.  But this particular weekend, my brother in law was participating in an Iron Man competition at Bear Lake and my parents went to watch and cheer him on.  It really was a miracle they weren't there.

Otherwise, they would have had to stand by and watch helplessly as they witnessed this happen to their beloved cabin.

(These images were taken by a neighbor and each time I see them, my chest tightens up and it becomes a little harder to breath.  It is SO hard to see these!!!)

Sunday morning, the fire marshal attempted to call my Dad, but he could not get him so he called my uncle, who also has a cabin up there and is listed as the emergency contact.  My uncle then called my sister Jenny and her husband Casey.  He told them that there was a fire, but that based on what the fire marshal said, he thought that it was most likely just minimal or smoke damage. 

Jenny called Summit County Fire to get more details and was told that they did not know the extent of the damage.  (She thinks now that they just didn't want to give her that news over the phone).  So she called me just before 10:00 this morning to inform me that she was on her way up and she would call me as soon as she knew anything.  We decided not to go up until we knew just how bad it was.  She was also finally able to get a hold of our parents and they said they were packing up and would swing by that way on their way home.  So Jenny went up there thinking that she would need to meet the Fire marshal to unlock the door and let him in to assess the damage.

As you can see, that was NOT the case.

There was no more door to unlock.

My poor sister was the first one to see just how much devastation had come to our beloved cabin.

She called me in hysterics and was unsure of how to give this kind of news to our Mom and Dad.  We decided that she shouldn't tell them anything over the phone but to wait until they got to the gate and then 

tell them before they went up to the lot. 

(My parents said that when she never called them back, they knew it had to be bad).

When they got there, they asked, "Is it bad?"  Jenny said, "Yes".  My Mom asked, "Is it gone?" Through tears, she had to tell them, "yes". 

This is what is left of my parents dream.

Mike and I came upon the cabin from the back, and started driving toward the cabin that is right behind ours.  As that cabin came into view, Ian exclaimed, "I see the cabin!!!"  I looked at Mike and as the panic threatened to choke off my words, I quietly whispered, "I don't see it."

Instead of the bright green roof and golden sunny logs that we usually see, this is what was waiting for us.

That is a moment I don't think I will ever forget!  All the love and sweat that was put into creating a haven for our family was gone.

Gone.

All I could do was hug my family and cry.  

After a while, I decided it was time to walk around and take a closer look.  Everywhere I looked, I saw black, I saw charred ashes, and I saw devastation.  

I held it together pretty well until I decided to look in the basement window.  This made me take a sharp intake of breath and bite my lip with renewed tears.  Maybe it was because this area still slightly resembled what was once our beloved cabin, but seeing the light coming into the stairwell broke down any composure I had left.

The community where our cabin was has a small fire truck on the premises.  Some of the people that were up there at the time the fire started, jumped in and tried to put out the flames.  Unfortunately, it was too hot and too fast so they worked to keep the surrounding cabins and trees safe until the Summit County Fire Dept arrived on scene to put out the inferno.

Ours was the only cabin affected.

This is all so surreal to me.  I am having such a hard time processing any of it.  One minute I keep thinking that it just can't be true, and then the images of the charred and smoking remains come crashing to the forefront of my mind, and the tears just start falling again. I can't sleep and as I write this, it is 5:00 in the morning and I have been crying for the last hour and a half just thinking about all the tragedy that one stupid bolt of lightning has brought to us.

I am so, so sad for my family.  I am so sad for all of the memories that we will never get a chance to make there.  I am so sad that when Ian asks me to take him to the cabin that I will have to tell him that we can't. I am so sad that our future children will never know what a beautiful place their grandparents had lovingly built for them.  I am so sad that I won't be able to have sleepovers with my siblings there and that we will have no more cabin breakfasts.  I am so sad for my Mom and Dad, who spent almost every weekend up there, building their dreams.  I am so sad for all that they have lost.  I am not sure what will happen now, and I pray that they can somehow find the strength to dream again.

But in the midst of overwhelming sadness, I am also so incredibly grateful that no one in my family was hurt, and that my parents were not there to see the flames.  I am so grateful for all of the times that we spent there, and all of the beautiful memories we created.  I am grateful that my baby got to have two and a half years of life at the cabin.

My sweet nephew Zack, a.k.a. "Za-Za" helped to put it all into perspective for me.  He is a very tender hearted kid and he was having a really hard time seeing the cabin this way.  The cabin was started before he was born, so this is something he has always known and loved.  He practically grew up there.  Yet, as we were waiting at the gate, getting ready to go, he walked up to me and somberly said, "I am really sad about the cabin, but I would be so much sadder if it was Ian that wasn't with us anymore.  I don't even think I would be able to go to school tomorrow!"

I know that the cabin was just a "place", and one that can be rebuilt, but it will never be the same and we will always miss our beloved "Harward Hollow".