Aftermath

The flood is over. It happened. Nothing can be done to erase it from the annals of history, though much is being done to wipe its effects away.

Statewide, the damage is massive. In my county alone, they say that we were inundated by one trillion (!) gallons of water. Sadly, the South Platte River is still breaching its banks in other states. (My heart is with you, Nebraska!)
Personally, the worst thing that happened in my immediate family was the loss of our car: the 2008 Chevy Cobalt I'd been driving to meet the van pool --and sometimes to work-- and also for running my errands was totaled. The mechanic-assessor guy (that's his Official Title) said it wouldn't even start or turn over or anything. I looked under the hood before it was towed away, so I'm not surprised by that. We'll find out if the insurance amount is enough to cover the loss sustained by the car's lien holders, but I doubt it. So, the search has begun. I'm not looking forward to having a car payment again, especially since I am wanting to move out soon, but it's necessary.
Our house was just barely out of the water. (We're talking inches away.) It ripped out our HVAC ductwork -- and we have water & debris in our heating vents -- but no water got in the house. I know how lucky we are, especially when all I have to do is look around.
My next-door neighbors to the east weren't able to fully assess their damage because of water still on their property for a week after the flood happened. They started cleaning out their house this weekend, and I shudder to think about how much mold there was and is in that house. I hear they lost 21 goats, too. (Yes, these are the neighbors whose goats Bailey loved to watch.) But, sadly, I don't even have to look that far.
Water got into the craft house. We had to discard a heaping full truck-bed worth of fabric as as well as some furniture items because of evidenced mold growth or suspected mold growth -- and we didn't want to take any chances. I lost some craft stuff too -- quite a bit of my Christmas stuff, as a matter of fact, and a few shelving units. All the carpeting was ripped up, too, and there was some mold discovered when we ripped it out. The water in that house was only one and a half up to two inches deep. That's why my grandma lost nearly everything.
Her house sustained the full depth of the water -- three to four feet -- and caused her to lose most of her possessions. Memories, journals, books, her bed, her clothes, her chair... What can be bleached can be saved, but the rest had to sadly go. We're still waiting to hear on the state of her house, as to whether it is fixable or not, so we know what's next. The base, wooden floors all need ripped up and replaced. The walls are going to be stripped of what they have and replaced with drywall. Her entire plumbing system is going to need to be replaced, as every pipe was loosened and removed from where it was.
On the whole of the property, there is also debris damage. Fences were torn down by the weight of debris and the current of the river. Grasses, sticks, twigs, loose boards, and whatever flotsam the river could buoy -- propane tanks, cast-iron bath tubs (!), railroad ties, un-anchored animal shelters, pop cans, trash cans, and, in a few cases, dead trees -- all floated along, and most of that got stuck in or at our fences. (Thank goodness the animal shelter is in the back pasture and did not end up floating toward someone's house!)

So what comes next? Where do we go from here? FEMA is stepping in and helping. It's going to be a long, arduous road full of sweat equity and (I'm sure) blisters and splinters. But we'll make it. We'll rebuild. We'll clean up. We'll recover. Why? Because we have to.