The flood claimed the retirement home my wife, Karen, and I had bought three years ago on Ellis Boulevard NW. It also destroyed our son’s home in Palo.

During the flood, the closest we could get to checking on our home was by walked up the hills at the back of Ellis Park Golf Course to look down on the river. We could see the enormous impact of the flood. We were devastated, and our hearts fell as we realized the blow this flood would deal our beloved city and home.

We’d put everything from our basement on tables in our garage, assuming that would be high enough to save the items. When we returned - ours was the last neighborhood cleared for entry - everything was rotted and unsalvageable.

In the house, we could see the new kitchen was gone. The water had gotten 8 feet deep on the first floor. As we walked into the dining room, I could see my wife’s body kind of jerk. There, on its back in the mud, lay the piano her father had bought her when she was 9 years old 59 years ago. She turned to me with tears running down her cheeks. Nothing had to be said. We, as a family, with daughters, sons-in-laws and grandchildren, did a circle hug. Everything was gone.

I never felt prouder than when I looked at my children, grandchildren, sons-in-law, brother-in-law and friends, seeing them plastered from head to toe in floodwater waste, helping my wife and I clean out that house.

When we were finally able to get into my son’s home near Palo, we found everything destroyed. Kevin died almost two years ago. When we entered his home after the flood, it shook my soul.

The key to peace is acceptance of life on life’s terms.