The moment came Tuesday afternoon, when the insurance man confirmed what Mark Freeman suspected.

The Ellenwood home he built five years ago must be torn down.

LOUIE FAVORITE/AJC (ENLARGE)

Mark Freeman was in upstate New York when a May 12 tornado ruined the Clayton County home he shared with fiancee Monique Jordan and her 9-year-old son.

LOUIE FAVORITE/AJC (ENLARGE)

Mark Freeman and his fiance, Monique Jordan, sort through personal belongings that survived the storm.

A tornado, part of a series of storms that hit metro Atlanta Sunday morning, had shifted the home off its foundation, ripped out walls and peeled the roof.

For three days, Freeman was told he would have to rebuild. But the words of contractors, firemen and neighbors only carried so much weight.

So he waited for Peter Descoteaux, a claims adjuster for the Assurant Catastrophe Team, to tell him.

While Descoteaux surveyed the home, Freeman tried to ease the wait by complaining about his golf game — he can't get air under the ball and keeps hitting line drives.

He laughs, but his tired eyes can't hide the concern.

After 90 minutes Descoteaux delivered the verdict.

"It's in bad shape," Descoteaux told him. "I don't know what to say until I put all the numbers in and write up the report, but we are leaning towards demolition."

He shook Freeman's hand and promised to call him soon with an official report.

Freeman watched as he Descoteaux drove away, then looked back at his lost home.

He didn't say a word.

Freeman is just one of the hundreds of people across Georgia who were affected by last weekend's storms, which caused at least two deaths and more than $100 million in insured losses.

Clayton County was among the hardest areas hit. Two subdivisions in Ellenwood, on Clayton's northeastern tip, took tremendous beatings.

One of those subdivisions was Stagecoach Village.

One of those homes was Freeman's.

Now, Freeman, 41, along with his fiance, Monique Jordan, 25, and her son, Andre, 9, are sweeping up their shattered lives and homes.

Instead of work and school last week, they sifted debris to find important papers, searched for a place to stay, fought with their insurance company and got little sleep.

Happiness came in small doses. Like when one of the firemen securing the home found Jordan's missing cell phone. She jumped up and down and hugged him.

Or when they watched Andre ham it up in front of local television cameras, seriously retelling his harrowing tale.

"With all this, if he is having fun, let him do it," said Jordan, watching Andre get interviewed once again.

'I felt guilty'

Freeman was in Utica, N.Y., visiting his folks for Mother's Day when the storm hit. Jordan and Andre had just moved into Freeman's five-bedroom, three-bathroom home the previous Thursday, and this was their first time there alone.

"I felt guilty," Jordan said. "It was my first weekend there and the house is destroyed."

Jordan said when the storm woke her early Sunday morning, she initially chalked it up to unpredictable Georgia weather.

Most people say a tornado sounds like a freight train, but Jordan grew up in the Bronx, home of the subway.

"It sounded like the No. 4 train coming into 42nd Street. That is what scared the life out of me," she said. "I jumped out of the bed, kneeled down on the floor and put the comforter over my head.

As soon as she hit the floor, the mattress flew into the bathroom. "

The roof peeled away. By the time she made it to Andre's room, she found him clutching his night stand.

"His legs were dangling out of the house," Jordan said. "He was just looking at me in a daze like he was asleep or confused. He said he thought he was dreaming."

The entire back wall of Andre's second floor room was ripped off.

It was over in less than five minutes, but it was enough time to destroy the house.

Freeman arrived home to a neighborhood he barely recognized. Downed trees were everywhere. Blue tarps replaced roofs. Firefighters, Red Cross workers and Salvation Army members offered services.

But they were clearly outnumbered by an army of contractors — in bright golf shirts and matching SUVs — who prowled around the neighborhood doling out business cards and offering quick assistance for a good price.

Freeman had a pocket full of cards and fliers — even one with a photo of Jordan's damaged Jaguar taken from an AJC photo gallery — for his consideration.

But for most of the week, even if he wanted to hire one of them, he couldn't.

On April 10, Freeman was informed by his insurance company that his policy was being canceled, based on credit report information. Freeman said he never missed a payment, has no bankruptcies or liens and can't figure out what the insurance company found.

"They just cut me off like that after four and a half years," he said.

Freeman's mortgage company's insurance will pay to rebuild the house, but he is responsible for his temporary housing and everything he lost.

The Red Cross provided food vouchers and hotel accommodations. On Thursday, after a series of phone calls by Jordan, Clayton County Commissioner Sonna Singleton helped secure an apartment in College Park.

"We are going to have to get second jobs," said Jordan, noting that they have to now pay a mortgage and rent.

Freeman and Jordan said since they met a year ago, their relationship has been strong and they complement each other.

She talks a mile a minute. He is low-key. She drives a Jaguar. His Honda has 200,000 miles on it.

"Every day, he makes me feel good about myself," said Jordan. "Maybe this is a test to see if we love each other as much as we say we love each other."

They now swear that despite what they are going through, they remain upbeat.

"I have been through a lot in my life," Jordan said. "I am 25 with a 9-year-old. Stress comes with that. I went to college with my baby with me. This is nothing."

Ray Alexander, a contractor that Freeman finally decided on, said it would take about six months to rebuild.

"There is no starting point to save anything," he said. "You have to start from scratch."

With that, Freeman and Jordan have hope and are already talking about cabinets and counter tops.

"Come November or December, this will all be in the past," Freeman said. "I will be back on top."

Worries about the yard

In a quiet moment, amid all the banging, sawing and hawking from contractors, Freeman's tired eyes look at his home. He worries that when the home is torn down and rebuilt, workers will damage his lawn.

Never one for interior decorating — Jordan can take care of that — Freeman's forte is the yard.

He spends hours trimming the hedges, tending to his two narrow trees and cutting the grass.

"I was still trying to get rid of those brown spots," said Freeman, who paid $158,000 for his house five years ago. "Buying this house was the best thing I have ever done."

But looking over his yard now, it's hard to see the brown spots, or even the green grass for that matter.

With his crumpled house serving as a backdrop, his lawn was covered with debris and glass. White insulation, from someone's attic, blankets the lawn like snow.

Freeman shook his head.

"At least the trees survived," he said.