When my dad bought this building, I was 19 years old. After having proven my construction skills on other people's stuff for three years, he was willing to turn me loose on the warehouse. I built my second bathroom from scratch here, my first drop ceiling, first wielded a sawzall here to put in a doorway, etc.
When I brought that same sawzall back in on Monday to start squaring up the holes in the roof, it was a bittersweet homecoming. I spent the next 19 years of my life fixing and building things here for my dad. It was one of the ways we bonded, and one of the ways I proved myself as a son.
I have responded to this tragedy as tho my dad were still here. He would have just said 'fix it.' So, I just went into fix it mode. Now the insurance company says wait.