holding los angeles, one year later
thinking of all who are still finding home, and an in person anniversary walk
One year ago, fire moved through parts of Los Angeles and changed lives forever. It is hard to believe a year has passed, when there is so much that feels so fresh, still. Homes, routines, landscapes and the sense of safety we can rely on without realizing it. All the ways that life is irrevocably changed and disrupted in ways that linger long after the flames are out.
The loss, the waiting, the rebuilding, the exhaustion and the quiet bravery it takes to keep going, is not lost on me. Many have told me they have felt forgotten this year. Still passing places they long for and remember, daily reminders of what is no longer there.
One of my first clients lost their home in a fire years ago. She came to me by way of a fellow teacher, who had lost her mother. When she learned more about her own grief, she suggested that she see me after having rebuilt her home. She felt her colleague never acknowledged the grief that she experienced after losing her home. This woman was so moved by the friend naming her grief. She had not lost a person, and so had never felt she could name this loss she was mourning and grieving out loud. She measured it against death loss. She was so moved by having this permission from a friend who had lost such a special person in her life.. Touched that she could see them both, her own mother loss and the loss of her home, side by side in this way.
One of the ways she told me that she coped still living in a place that could and might be affected again, was to keep a list in her wallet, “8 Things I Would Take In A Fire.” She said it helped her feel prepared. It changed the way she thought about her memories and the importance of home and how she held her personal history.
I keep a mental list like this. It is largely because after a loss, what we can hold on physically holds such great meaning. I have LA friends that have lost those connections. Ashes. Photos. Heirlooms. Valued for their deeply rooted meaning. Irreplaceable.
Grief after fire is not only about what was lost, but about what will never be quite the same. And still, alongside that grief, I have witnessed tenderness, community and people showing up for one another in deeply human ways. And also feeling like we just could never do enough.
I remember being in touch with family, friends and colleagues that evening. Go bags and sparks. Fear of the unknown. This past year has asked so much of Los Angeles. The fires didn’t just take land or homes, they touch memories, safety, routine and the very sense of belonging. Corner stores, coffee shops, playgrounds and schools. Grandma’s dinner table and china. For many, life was divided into before and after with very little warning.
Grief after fire doesn’t end when the smoke clears. It lives in the rebuilding, the waiting, the remembering and the courage to show up again and again. For those who lost, those who are still finding their footing and those who stood beside them, I am thinking of you all today.
A few ways to support someone you know today:
Remembering Without Asking Them To Move On
Say their loss out loud, Use the name of the place, the street, the view, the home. Remembering is not reopening a wound-it is honoring what mattered.
Offer presence, not solutions.
A check in text can help today. Maybe more than you know. Listen to how they are today without offering a silver lining or lesson. Let it just be about companionship and friendship.
Support the long recovery.
Anniversaries can reopen everything. Donate locally, shop from affected businesses, check in as many still have fundraising pages and efforts you can support.
My friend and best selling author, Natasha Sizlo, who lost her beloved home is hosting an in person anniversary grounded walk. Join her at Will Rogers Historic Park at 1pm pacific time. A gentle unhurried walk to Inspiration Point and back. Children and leashed dogs welcome. Meet at the lot above the polo fields.
Her work, WILD GRIEF was born of her experience. She helps others move through grief with nature, care and presence. She is also a grief guide and LA Emotion Facilitator.
We remember not just what is gone, but what endures. Community. Love. The human instinct to reach for one another in the hardest moments. Holding LA gently today. Space for all that was lost and all that continues to be carried. You are not alone in remembering and in my heart.
Such a beautiful tribute Barri along with the love and care that you name . A loss is your loss, grief comes in many forms. Wild Grief resonates with me on so many levels. I adore Natasha and the way she has found this as a grounding in the midst of so much loss.