Nine years.
“Mother, you can never have too much glitter!”
I laughed as I remembered Chelsea telling me that. She was putting the finishing touches on a middle school art project, and I was lecturing her on moderation, especially when it came to glitter.
Nearly nine years have passed since the tragic Ghost Ship fire. Thirty-six colorful friends — including my daughter — having a good time were caught off-guard. Unknown to them, a fire broke out on the first floor of the Oakland event space where they were holding a party. The music was blasting at full volume as they danced on the second floor unaware of the danger below.
That vision is never far from my mind. I was cleaning out my garage again, a never-ending chore that usually involves a reorganization of my priorities. While pulling some of Chelsea’s papers off a high shelf, a flurry of glitter flew into the air and covered me in a glimmering rainbow. If you know glitter, you know I’d be digging the stuff out of my hair, skin and clothes for weeks. Just the same, it made me smile.
And then something wonderful happened.
I didn’t think of the fire and unanswered screams for help; I thought of the glitter and confetti that showered down on the crowd during one of Chelsea and Travis Hough’s EasyStreet shows in 2013, three years prior. The night was electric. The Bottom of the Hill Club in San Francisco was covered in shimmering color; and Chelsea and Travis were warned that if they didn’t clean up the mess themselves, they would never be invited back to perform. Dozens of their friends got to work after the show and happily pitched in to make the place glitter-free.
It was a glitter party!
And that memory also made me smile. I was looking back, not in pain but in joy. I’m so glad I kept Chelsea’s clothes and precious objects in my garage. It isn’t much of a memorial, but it served the purpose of turning my thoughts away from darkness and toward the light.
In much the same way, some of the Ghost Ship families are in the planning stages of creating a memorial for the old Ghost Ship warehouse site. We are honoring our loved ones by coming together with architects, artists and the developers to bring beautiful memories to the site and undo the legacy of neglect and incompetence that led to 36 deaths.
I’m grateful the old warehouse was torn down, and the property was purchased by The Unity Council, a non-profit social equity development corporation with over 60 years of history in the Fruitvale neighborhood of Oakland. Their mission is to promote social equity and improve quality of life by building vibrant communities where everyone can work, learn and thrive. I can’t imagine a better use for the decrepit warehouse site.
The Ghost Ship families hope to have a temporary art structure in place for the 10th anniversary of the fire next year, and a permanent memorial when the low-cost housing project is completed in several years.
During this ninth year of loss, my glitter-tossed garage will have to suffice as a memorial to my daughter and her friends’ memory. I’m sure other Ghost Ship family members have their own touchstones of remembrance. But in the future, we will have a place of solace, sanctity and perhaps even smiles to hold loving memories of our 36 beautiful souls.
As some of their friends have said, “May they rest in beats.”
Colleen Dolan is the mother of Chelsea Dolan, one of 36 young people who died in the Ghost Ship fire in Oakland on Dec. 2, 2016. Her book, “Ghost Ship Fire,” was published last year and the audiobook was released this month.