Jasper is home, but after the wildfire, I have to say goodbye

This First Person column is written by Stephen A. Nelson, whose home in Jasper, Alta., was among the many that burned in the devastating wildfire in July. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

Jasper is broken.

That's what I thought as I stood amid the ruins of the seniors' apartment complex that was my former abode. The Pine Grove Manor was home to about 33 people who in the twinkling of an eye had been made homeless by the wildfire that ravaged our town.

We gathered at this graveside and kept vigil as disaster-recovery experts from the humanitarian organization Team Rubicon sifted through the ashes of our lives.

All of us were looking to find our lost treasures and to salvage some hope from our sense of despair.

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I was hoping against hope to find those precious jewels that can never be replaced: my mum's gilt-leafed Bible that her mother gave her 70 years ago when Mum first entered the college to become a Salvation Army officer; and the red cardigan that Mum knit for me almost 20 years ago, after I returned to Canada from Taiwan.

As the afternoon progressed, the mood swung between optimism and dismay. Like the weather in Jasper, it seemed to change every 15 minutes.

For me, watching Team Rubicon sift through the ashes felt a bit like looking for a scrap of dignity.

It felt like I was trying to save face after a sudden, disastrous break-up with the love of my life: Jasper. She's the ex who kicked me out in the middle of the night. And then she burned all my stuff.

In the end, Team Rubicon retrieved only one of my lost treasures: the charred and hardly recognizable remains of a coin collection. It seemed worse than nothing.

Finding the love of my life

I first fell in love with Jasper in the autumn of 1980 when my photographer friend, Bill, was presenting a slide show of his first summer in the Canadian Rockies. I remember vividly the stunning photographs: Jasper looked like an angel, dressed in a bridal gown of ice and snow.

It was love at first sight.

So, in the summer of 1981, I followed that dream out west to Alberta, to join an outreach ministry run by Jasper Park Baptist Church.

Once I arrived in the Rockies, I discovered that this dream angel was even more beautiful in person.

But as in most fairy tales, I couldn't stay long. My life and my career took me elsewhere: studying at a seminary in Saskatoon, reporting for newspapers in Manitoba and teaching English on the radio in Taiwan.

Still, wherever I went in the world, I never lost this yearning and desire for Jasper.

I always had dreams about returning.

Finally, in the autumn of 2008, I came back to Jasper. This time, I intended to spend the rest of my life with her.

There was just one problem. By the time I got back, she had changed. Although Jasper was still beautiful, the housing shortage had become critical and ugly.

Sometimes, I lived in decent rooms in suitable houses or shared apartments.

Other times, I slept in antique churches.

I was never out on the streets but - at times - homelessness was only a heartbeat away.

Pine Grove Manor, run by the nonprofit Evergreens Foundation, was one of the very few places that offered affordable housing with rent geared to income.

I had been there for only 11 days before the evacuation.

The Jasper complex wildfire incinerated almost everything I owned before I had even finished unpacking.

You can never go home again

Losing everything is devastating.

But I'm not alone, about 800 homes in Jasper were obliterated. One-third of the community was reduced to rubble and ash.

The Alberta government has promised residents that it will rebuild Pine Grove Manor and "build back better."

The ministry for seniors and housing has said it will take two to three years once construction begins. To me, that sounds like the Twelfth of Never.

Thankfully, many have found sanctuary with family or friends in neighbouring communities.

For the last three months, I have been staying at a hotel in Hinton, Alta. The Evergreens Foundation has arranged for us to stay until more permanent options become available.

The hotel workers and social workers have been angels in disguise.

But people have to move on.

Today, only 10 Pine Grove residents remain at the hotel. Others have settled in more long-term accommodations, such as those in Hinton or other Albertan communities such as Edson or Wetaskawin.

Better a broken heart than no heart at all?

People have asked, "Do you have a plan for what's next? Do you want to go back to Jasper?"

My usual answer has been, "Of course, I still love Jasper. I want to go home. But I can't go back to what isn't there."

My immediate goal is to find a place elsewhere, most likely in Edmonton.

That city has the healthcare resources and other services to keep me alive; but I am still on multiple waiting lists for suitable, affordable housing.

Wherever I go, I hope to find what I need most: the kind of community that feeds my soul.

As a community, Canada has shown Jasper an overwhelming outpouring of generosity, kindness, compassion and unconditional love.

Maybe that's why I still dare to hope: because I believe that there is still that kind of love in the world.

Yet no matter where I end up, however long I may live, a piece of my heart will always be in Jasper.

But if home is where the heart is, where do you go when your heart is broken?

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