How the Tuscaloosa Tornado Left a Permanent Scar on My Soul
Monday marked the fourth anniversary of the historic tornado that ripped through Tuscaloosa, Alabama — my daughter’s birth city and the place we once called home.
The EF-4 tornado’s 190-mph winds cut a 6-mile path through the city, destroying nearly everything in its way and killing 53 people.
Like many, my heart is heavy as I look at photos of the destruction in Nepal and read about those suffering in the wake of the 7.8-magnitude earthquake that struck over the weekend. When a natural disaster kills innocent people and destroys your beloved city, it leaves a permanent scar on your soul. I only have to think about that fateful day in Tuscaloosa and multiply it by 1,000 to get a small glimpse into what the people of Nepal are going through right now as they try to keep their families safe and make sense of this tragedy.
I will never forget what it felt like to emerge from our shelter that day with wet cheeks, clutching my babies, to a city that was suddenly, incomprehensively, unrecognizable. I will never forget what it felt like, a short hour before that, to huddle with strangers, gripping my kids, and praying through trembling lips that our lives would be spared.
Photos From the Nepal Earthquake (Warning: Graphic Images)
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We waited out the storm deep in the bowels of The Tuscaloosa News, in a tornado shelter in the basement. I was a freelance writer at the time who worked from home, a home that had no basement. So when the meteorologists predicted a sizeable storm, I packed up my kids — ages 1 and 4 —and drove to my husband’s work downtown to take shelter. He worked as an editor at the News.
It was a blessing to receive enough notice before the storm to find shelter, though I wondered if we were truly safe anywhere. I hugged my children as we sat in that basement waiting for the unknown. They watched Dora the Explorer on my laptop. My husband joined us when tornado sirens propelled all employees downstairs for cover. Soon after that, the power went out.
Breathlessly, we watched the dark and violent funnel barrel toward our building downtown via a laptop screen powered by a generator. Dozens of us stood close together in the dark, holding hands, crying softly, and pulling our children close. My chest felt tight, I was nauseous, and I remember thinking frantically that this could be the end. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.
The tornado did not hit the News. It turned. And everything in its path was pretty much destroyed. Neighborhoods were reduced to piles of rubble. Homes were blown entirely from their foundations. The storm, which was a mile wide, damaged about 12 percent of the city that day — cutting through it like a butter knife.
That night, I emerged from the shelter and looked up at the sky in wonder. It was bright and warm and completely calm. My husband put us into the car and kissed us. He needed to stay at the paper to cover the story, and I needed to get the kids home. Did we even have a home? A 15-minute commute from the newspaper to my house would take hours because of roadblocks and detours.
The chaos was almost immediate when I pulled out of the parking lot. Thankfully, the kids were asleep and did not see the police lights, the twisted metal of huge highway signs, chunks of buildings, overturned cars, and gnarled trees and poles that clogged up the roadways. I’d later learn that debris from Tuscaloosa was discovered 60 miles away in Birmingham.
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Our house was untouched. We were so fortunate. So many had lost so much. It was overwhelming to think about all of the loss. And it’s painful today to think about the thousands dead and injured in Nepal, whose lives also changed in the blink of an eye, and the many homes and buildings there reduced to rubble.
We sometimes search for ways, no matter how small, to help when we feel so helpless. There are ways we can donate money to Nepal. Sunday night, about 1,000 people gathered in Copley Square for a vigil .
Four years ago, in the weeks after the tornado, a group of us moms organized a diaper drive to benefit the babies of displaced families across Tuscaloosa.
It was humbling to watch the support for Tuscaloosa pour in from around the country. Teams of volunteers traveled from near and far to clean up the city and donations of clothes, food, baby items, and more filled warehouses and churches. As we know in Boston all too well, strangers lift each other up in times of tragedy. It’s a beautiful thing.
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