02/08/2025
I had a wonderful life. I had the privilege to raise my two children in the most idyllic and charming town by the sea. My husband and I would walk to dinner at our favorite restaurant every week to be greeted by the friendly faces of waiters and staff who were our friends. Every Fourth of July we hosted a water balloon fight on our street for the neighborhood before we all gathered to watch the local parade. We walked to the local rec center where my husband coached our kids play baseball. During covid we escaped the stress by walking to the bluffs and watching calming ocean.
Now it is gone. A spark, leading to a flame, yielding a firestorm of incredible magnitude that wiped out that town in just hours.
I am only starting to process the loss of what was, and the world is already starting to move on.
There are no word to express my loss. Like so many of you that have lost things, people or hope, I am surrounded by my grief in all moments. It’s inescapable.
In the space where I am supposed to grieve and process my loss, it is instead filled with time having to deal with finding a place to live, battling insurance, countless webinars on how to manage debris removal and rebuilding.
My neighbors and friends are scattered all over Los Angeles struggling to stay together as community.
I haven’t shared before because I just can’t think of apt words to describe what my family, neighbors, friends and have community are suffering. Because it is not in the past. The fire may have happened on January 7th but the profound pain is still here, the challenges are still here. The road to recovery is long, steep and incomprehensible.
I am grateful to those who have step forward to be there for our family. To those who have brought us clothes, food, supplies, and found us place for us to live in the short term. To the brands that have replaced lost items for us.
Everyday feels like a dream. I wake up and realize I can’t go home. Home to my Pacific Palisades. Back to my home.
