Portsmouth woman grateful for support after fire

PORTSMOUTH

Phyllis Pace returned to her Cradock neighborhood Friday, overwhelmed by the outpouring of gifts, support and love she and her son have received since the fire that killed her husband and destroyed their home Dec. 9.

"My son and I will make it through with your prayers," she told those at the small gathering at the home of neighbor Dottie Wyatt. "I never knew how much I was liked."

Pace lost her husband, Edward Earl Pace Jr., and the home they shared for 17 years at 90 Nicholson St. to the fire.

Joanna Hall, president of the Cradock Civic League, said the fire hit close to home, devastating a neighbor who lit up her corner of the street with so many Christmas lights she was known as the "light lady."

"We want to bring you back to Cradock," Hall said. "We're there for you, the lady with the lights."

Pace said hearing that the lights put smiles on children's faces meant a lot to her.

"I want to be your light lady again," she said, tearfully.

A fund has been set up by TowneBank to help Pace rebuild the home, which was not insured. Wheelabrator Technologies, which owns a waste-to-energy plant in Portsmouth, donated $1,000 to seed the fund, according to spokesman Joel Rubin. That has been matched by TowneBank, and the bank is giving an additional $1,000 to benefit Pace and her son, he said.

Pace touched her heart to show how much the response from the community has meant to her.

"This has really touched me," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Cherish every moment you have with loved ones, because the most precious things can be taken from you in a split second."

It was around 11:30 p.m. Dec. 9 when a split second changed life for Pace's family. She was washing dishes and her husband, who was disabled, had already gone to bed.

"Suddenly I heard a boom, like a gun went off. I looked in my living room, and I saw my mantle was engulfed in flames," Pace said.

Soaking a bedspread, she told her son, also named Edward, to run across the street and wake the neighbors to call 911.

Pace looked up to see her husband, who uses a cane, standing between the dining room and the kitchen. She told him to stay there while she tried to open up a storm door.

When she came back in after getting the door open, she called to him, but he didn't respond.

"The smoke was so thick, I couldn't breathe," she said.

Pace ran outside, found landscape timbers and began to break the windows, calling out for her husband.

"The smoke was so intense," she said. "I felt so helpless I couldn't get back in there. It was a devastating experience."

Her husband was found in the bathroom where he had succumbed to the smoke.

Firefighters responded to the scene within four minutes and were almost within touching distance of Edward Pace's unresponsive body. But a flashover - where everything in the room reaches ignition temperature at once - forced firefighters back out of the house before they could retrieve him.

Phyllis Pace was treated for second-degree burns and smoke inhalation. Her son had burns on his feet.

The house was destroyed. Pace found a small bag of emergency money, a few items of jewelry and her son Edward's clothes. Everything else was gone.

The family's seven pets, all adopted, also died: Pomeranians Chelsey and Shay; a husky, Casey; border collie Harley; and three cats, Lela, Sassy and Tasha.

"All of our animals, they normally follow me, but they followed him this time," Pace tearfully said. "We lost all of our animals. They were like children to me."

By Christmas Eve, the lot had been cleared of the debris that was left of their home with the exception of bits of concrete and brick and a pair of "beware of dogs" signs.

Pace continues to hear Edward call to her while she sleeps. "I miss caring for him. I really miss him a lot," she said.

Her husband, who was also called Junior, was a former merchant seaman who loved motorcycles and antique cars, she said. He would do anything anyone asked of him. And he loved Christmas.

"He always wanted to be sure we got what we wanted," Pace said. "Now all I have are treasured memories."

Devon Sorlie, (757) 222-5202, devon.sorlie@pilotonline.com