Where is Home Now?
I, like many of you, have been glued to the reports of the devastating fires in LA. The scenes are horrific, like a war zone. Watching it from afar is hard enough… being there in the midst of it is unimaginable. For anyone reading this who's been directly affected by this fire, our hearts are with you. We, on this side of the phones and screens, don’t (and can’t) experience the full impact of the loss. We can’t smell the burning homes and trees, or feel the heavy ashy air, or know what it’s like to see the home you raised your family in - gone. To see your entire neighborhood where you got your groceries, and went for a run, and chatted with the neighbors - gone.
What happens to us when the place we call home is gone?
Watching the scenes unfold every day brings me back to a time when I lost my home, too. Mine wasn’t taken by fire, but by an act of violence. My house didn’t burn to the ground but ultimately I lost the place that I and my daughter called home. In the midst of such a disorienting and traumatic event, you really learn a lot about what and where home is.
Grieving the loss of a home goes deep. You don’t really understand how deep the loss feels until you go through it. I’ve heard many stories from people in LA who’ve lost their homes and express that while they are devastated and shocked by the loss, they are grateful that they have what matters most, their family, friends, and pets, and this resonates with me, too. But the physical space that holds all that is a sacred space. Replaceable? Perhaps. But nonetheless sacred. Losing it hurts.
Recently, approximately two-and-a-half years after losing our home, my daughter and I were discussing the concept of home, what it means to us now, and we both agreed that where you are isn’t as important as who you are with. In the case of my daughter and I, she being at University and I being in a different state, we aren’t together as often as we’d like, and we no longer call our previous home “home” so for us, home has changed dramatically. We feel this change in our daily lives and it’s not always easy. Now “home” is adventures we take together; a winter-break ski trip, weekends in my town or hers, impromptu conversations on the phone, sharing funny videos on Instagram. Our home is the connection we have with each other. The care we take to communicate and send love and good energy to each other. The appreciation and gratitude we have for one another. For now, “home” is the love between us. It’s a love we can count on. A love that is fireproof.
Having this new sense of home, one that’s less a physical place and more an interpersonal one, is new territory for me. It’s scary, finding home again, but it's also freeing.
Even on wobbly legs, it seems like we are wired for this; for finding home again throughout all the changes life brings.
I cannot speak for the victims of the LA fires, I don’t know their pain or what their path will be. It’s safe to say that their journey forward is going to be a long road. We all hope and pray the road is smooth and they’re not alone and they get the help they need to build a new home with the people they cherish. That they, and anyone grieving or craving home, find it, create it, nurture it, celebrate it.
Sending love to LA,
Angela
PS: While our thoughts and prayers are important, please do consider helping those affected by the fires in LA in a way that resonates with you. Here’s a list of verified GoFundMe campaigns where you can donate directly to fire victims and first responders: https://www.gofundme.com/c/act/wildfire-relief/california. There’s also the Red Cross: https://www.redcross.org/donate/donation.html/?donamt=0 and the California Wildlife Recovery Fund: https://www.calfund.org/funds/wildfire-recovery-fund/ as well as many others.
