Sandy Town Hall Meeting/family secrets

The impact of the Superstorm will be felt in this community for years to come. There are businesses that still have not reopened; people that have not returned to their homes. Many wish to be bought out, never to return to their former areas where destruction and death occurred. Some have nothing left and still nowhere to go; some are living in cars, guarding over their properties yet to have electricity, heat, or water restored.

This was confirmed at a town hall meeting last night at the high school nearest to one of the most devastated areas. In the beginning, it was standing room only, with most public officials on the stage. The president came the week before Thanksgiving, a holiday I took the time to research that had its own aftermath I'm almost ashamed I didn't know earlier. Some of the people in the town hall meeting had spoken to the president, some were in photos posted on Facebook. Nothing was happening for most in a timely manner. The Red Cross going around in neighborhoods ringing a bell for hot meals or distributing blankets was no longer enough. The food and clothing had either run out, had become limited, or moved to other locations most didn't want to go to.

As the town hall progressed the crowd thinned as hours passed; some went into the high school cafeteria where agency representatives continued to provide updated information or additional resources. Most who had left the auditorium had finished what they either had to say or heard enough, most leaving without the answers they sought, still discouraged and frustrated. There had been tear-filled voices in the microphones, and anger. There were notes taken, with no timelines guaranteed, or practical acceptable solutions for those with serious concerns, many of which were being heard for the first time. I took photos to remember, including the media cameras and their reporters, none of which I saw later on the 11 o'clock news, simply because I didn't watch.

The reality was on the ground, in this community, and others hit as hard. Recovery will take years. They say another storm of this magnitude in the near future is unlikely; it's no consolation to those whose feelings range from uncomfortable to a despair that their homes no longer exist or if rebuilt will be subject to the same destruction the next hurricane season; there's no guarantee it won't be next year, in the next decade, or the next century. There is no protection from the ocean; there will be more storms. No one wishes to be in the path of any at any time, never knowing when the next 'big one' will hit.

I was given a list of real estate options to explore in the event I chose to move out of a flood zone in one of the less affected areas, where many street lights remained out and generator lights still shined their ghostly brightness to the hum of their motors, a sound now associated with trauma and uncertainty, not for the first time.

I had planned to continue the family story written by my grandfather's sister who passed away before I knew of her, which will continue. It contains within it the seeds of deeply buried family secrets I didn't realize until reading it as it unfolds in tolerable installments here. She never knew how her son really lived later in life. I'm sure she was an okay woman, whose child was exposed to and committed an unthinkable act. She likely died before it happened; I'm not sure. I only realized until reading her story why some things did or didn't happen during my childhood, when I expected more, when I expected to be protected and believed. Had the truth been known or dealt with, the consequences could have been more devastating than a hurricane, though not as much as a child's trust betrayed or dismissed.

Uncertainty...

... is a reality, daily. We only really only have one day at a time, and making the most of every day is a duty for some, and unrealized by others. It can become taxing, however, when knowing this becomes the routine, and packing in as much as possible so as not to procrastinate and get as much done as possible takes its own toll.

I don't know when it happened, but it did; there are hundreds of times that triggers were set off, when having too much adrenalin in the system at an elevated level for too long had its effect. Statistics already in one way, there is no intention to become one in yet another way.

So the willingness to really live continues, and has taken on yet another meaning. It's all for my child and the next generation. I do deserve to live, and to have a good life as well, to be able to enjoy my child while they still wish for my presence, and perhaps enjoy grandchildren, too. If not my own, then others'.

I can take this, it's almost easy compared to the slings and arrows of years and months past. I don't understand those who thrive on news of others' misfortunes; there's enough to go around for everyone, and everyone can do something that others cannot. The world is still in a very primitive mode, where it could otherwise prosper in many ways.

The only dream now is real quality time with my child and family, as much as possible for as long as possible. For that to happen, things must change.

There's no reason not to think this won't happen; it's just taken so long, and so much. Mistakes have been made that have harmed others sometimes with no knowledge on the part of who was responsible for the domino effect. Others knew exactly what they were doing and didn't care. What goes around comes around? I'm not sure it's true or if it happens in time. The casualties cannot be brought back to life; the time cannot be replaced.

If it's all happening for a reason, I hope to find out before long. My child's laugh and smile are renewing, and make work so much easier and rewarding. Focus and concentration are of so much better quality when it's certain he's safe, whenever those moments happen. Those in between can seem like an eternity. He was put here for a reason, as was I, there is still much we have to do, together.