More Than Just Things: The Deep Ache of Losing Everything

Reflections as wildfires rage across Los Angeles

Losing everything to a wildfire, a war, or any other natural or manufactured disaster is a devastation few can fully comprehend. It's easy to say, 'At least you have your life,' but those words often feel hollow in the face of profound loss. A home is not just four walls—it holds memories, milestones, and the essence of a life constructed piece by piece.

"Things" are more than possessions; they are the tangible connections to loved ones, past chapters, and a sense of self. "Things" are never just objects; they carry the weight of our lives, stories, and emotions. The worn armchair isn't just furniture—it's where you rocked your child to sleep, read your favorite book, or sat with a loved one. The family photographs aren't just pieces of paper—they're fragments of time, capturing moments you'll never get back. The dishes in your cupboard are more than tools for eating; they remind you of dinners shared, conversations had, and the love poured into meals for family and friends.

Even the most minor, most mundane items—a bracelet, a coffee mug, a handwritten note—are imbued with meaning. They represent milestones, loved ones, or even the hope and joy of a future you were building. Losing these "things" in a matter of moments doesn't just feel like losing objects; it feels like losing the foundation of your life, the threads that connect you to your history, your identity, and the people you love.

For those on the outside, it's tempting to say, 'They're just things,' but to the one who's lost them, these things are irreplaceable, layered with memory and meaning. In their absence, the grief isn't just about what's burned; it's about the fragments of a life that can never be recovered.

When everything is gone, grief runs deeper than belongings—it's the loss of security, identity, and the physical proof of a life once lived. Survival is a gift, but it comes with an unshakable ache for all left behind. Recovery isn't just about rebuilding but finding a way to heal when the flames have taken more than just things.

Life is fragile and fleeting, a truth made painfully clear in the aftermath of loss. Rebuilding offers a path forward, a chance to create something new, but it doesn't erase the pain of what's gone. It's not just lost homes or possessions—it's the years of memories, the sense of safety, and the deeply personal ties to a life that can never be fully replicated. It is being forced to move on before you are ready. It is a violation of serenity. It is one of the most challenging hurdles in existence. Starting over is a testament to resilience, but the ache of what was left behind lingers, a reminder that the scars of loss remain while life moves forward.

Sending so much love to my old hood, the Palisades where I spent my entire twenties and to all those suffering.

Photo by Daniel Lincoln on Unsplash

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