July 18th, 2024
Driving home in a panic, I was trying to think clearly about where all our most important belongings were. You assume a fire evacuation will be temporary, but we were out of our home for an entire month.
In that moment, faced with uncertainty and fear, the first thing that came to mind wasn’t passports or jewelry. It was a single photograph of my Grandpa Lorne. That photo became the very first thing I packed into my bag.
A fire evacuation has a way of forcing you to reassess what truly matters. It strips everything down to the essentials, not in terms of survival, but in terms of meaning. So many of the material things we surround ourselves with suddenly feel irrelevant. What remains are the people we love, the memories we hold, and the few tangible items that connect us to them.
My grandfather was everything to me. He and my grandmother raised me, and his presence shaped who I am. He passed away in 2019, but the impact he had on my life is still deeply felt.
In the photo, he’s wearing a giant moose hat, something they place on the birthday person at Montana’s Restaurant. He’s grinning ear to ear, his high cheekbones -features passed down to me - on full display. That joyful expression, that familiar warmth, brings comfort even now.
His smile, captured in that one moment, holds more value to me than any possession ever could. It’s a reminder of love, of connection, and of the things that truly matter when everything else falls away.
It’s a photo I simply couldn’t bear to lose.