and the hurt is still as palpable as it was on that day.
At 12.51pm on February 22, our world tilted on it's axis. It wasn't the first quake, nor even the 10th, it was over 6months from our first and we'd lived through literally hundreds since then. But on that fateful afternoon it was brought back to us with startling clarity just how much at the mercy of nature we are.
Personally, our family had it pretty good after September, power, water and toilet all intact, house suffered very minor cosmetic damage, no loss of contents. Even the Boxing Day cluster didn't cause us undue amounts of stress. But February was different. February was very, VERY different.
Even now when I look around things here aren't quite right - that door frame looks like it's out of a Tim Burton film, that sliding door isn't meeting in the middle properly, that fence is not straight.... but we've lived with our 'new normal' for six months and it is hard to remember what it was like before.
We have had our full assessment, and the resulting report. The damage is worse than we thought, and we came very close to being over the "cap" of $100K - although when you throw in the seperate claim for contents and the seperate claim for fence and paths we are well over it. We're now on the list to be visited by a team from Fletchers who will prioritise the work, arrange the tradesmen etc. It's kind of daunting - a big job! - but also feels like we are at least on the right road and progressing.
My children continue to amaze me - with their resilience and their willingness to embrace "the new normal" which has become their school year. Site sharing for the rest of the year for Aleisha, means bussing to the other side of town and back but she doesn't complain. I know it's not been the amazing first year of high school she'd (or we'd) anticipated but she gets on and does her best with it. James and Matthew will be back in their own school in a couple of weeks, and their new days will start early and see them have more classes in a day in an effort to prepare for their exams. Haven't heard any complaints, just a stoic acceptance that this is how it must be for now.
Craig's work has had to relocate, the last time I went past their building it was a forlorn sight standing bowed and broken behind more of the ubiquitous Fahey's Fencing that has sprung up all over the city. His day now necessitates an extra 25 minutes of travel time each way, on roads that might be open and passable today - and closed and munted tomorrow! The only upside is they have been frantically busy, and in these uncertain economic times a guaranteed paycheck is very much a bonus!
Me? I'm good some days, less so others. The days when I can see all my chicks in the nest, or know they are within reach are good days. The days we have aftershocks and my chicks are across town I struggle with. Being here on my own makes me nervous. Being further than 20minutes walk from home makes me nervous. Knowing Craig is doing jobs in and around the cordone makes me nervous. Knowing my youngest was stuck in a stairwell for a 6.3 shake in June makes me physically ill with the "what if's". Emotionally it is like being on a roller coaster - the good days are amazing, the bad days are wretched. I miss, like a death almost, my best friend whose family have relocated because they were given an opportunity to start over in a new and unbroken place. I feel guilty because we stayed. I feel like maybe I should be prepared to take that leap too.
A lot of buildings are gone, over 350 in the city alone, with more yet to be demolished. Standing outside the cordon and seeing the gaps is heartwrenching, and seeing the buildings waiting for their turn is worse. Watching the hungry teeth of a digger pull away another piece of the city makes me cry.
And we wait to see what will become of the Cathedral. It holds a piece of family history for us. You see when Craig's father was a stone mason he was asked to rebuild the beautiful Rose Window, which had suffered damage. There were very few men as skilled as he, in this kind of work so to be asked was a huge honour. He did a beautiful job too. However after the events on February 22, the Rose Window was damaged, and had to be propped up to hold it in place. This seemed to keep it safe from further harm, in the hopes they could find someone, at a later date, to do the repair work.
Most of the spire has also been lost, and the damage to the interior is huge. Whether the Cathedral can be rebuilt or will have to be done from scratch remains to be seen. One can only hope that this beacon of our city can in some way be restored for future generations to enjoy. However not content with ripping our city apart in February, mother nature had another crack at us in June and that window was lost. Despite the best efforts to keep it in one piece,
it was lost in to the interior of the damaged cathedral. And our hearts were broken. For us this is the symbol of our heritage, because when we look at it, we see George. To look at it, and know it is so broken, possibly beyond repair is absolutely heartbreaking.
There are stories like this all over Christchurch, places that mean something to families like ours. Places that will never feel quite the same again. And yet despite all the brokeness and desolation, there is an undercurrent of hope.
Adlin Sinclair says it best:
'Without faith, hope and trust, there is no promise for the future, and without a promising future, life has no direction, no meaning and no justification'
So we hold on to faith - faith in our city's leaders, in our government, in those charged with the rebuild process, and we hope and we trust.... because the alternative can not be countenanced.
kia kaha Christchurch, our hearts are here and here we stay
~ Nic
Please excuse Robbi in this photo, she just can't resist being a little bit cheeky!
Had so much fun I have already submitted my registration for next year, just can't wait! These chicks made our table just rock with laughter and fun the whole weekend!
