Sonoma County Fires– One Year Later

The Sonoma County Fires swept through my community a year ago.

I’ve spent a lot of time since thinking about what happened to my county, and particularly to my friends.

While no one in my family lost their home, we were all affected in one way or another.

I didn’t realize how profoundly I felt until my husband suggested I change my reference.

“You’re too fixated on fire. Why not say, ‘the October events?'”

I laughed and told friends of his request. We all laughed and corrected ourselves.

“So, what happened to you during the fires? I mean, the October events?”

Silly?

Yes.

But for me, a start to healing.

If I’ll ever truly heal.

Why do I need to heal?

Survivor guilt is always present when you escape the horror of a natural disaster or calamity.

Fire came within five blocks of our house; we were evacuated for 13 days.

But that’s nothing compared to what our friends have gone through and continue to endure.

The stories drew me. They repelled me. They made me weep.

Especially now that so many have moved away.

My life is riddled with holes. I miss my friends. I also miss the security of knowing people I loved were enduring this change in our community with me.

Too many have moved away. Too many.

No one I know, a year later, has even poured a foundation to start the rebuild.

What is there to say in the face of such trauma?

Sonoma County fires and the shadow of grief

I spent two weeks last June on a speaking/visiting tour in Virginia.

My husband sent me gladly. “You need to see another place besides Sonoma County.”

I didn’t realize how I felt–that I lived in a community overshadowed by grief.

We can see burned hillsides from our house.

Our friends’ horror of clearing property, dealing with the insurance companies (the insanity of having to list and value every possession you ever owned), and the frustration with our city’s planning department, weighed heavily on me.

And I didn’t lose a house.

When the smartest people we know don’t know what to do–who can solve the problems and rebuild?

In Virginia, old friends welcomed me with open arms.

They wanted to hear about my book, Mrs. Oswald Chambers–which released in the middle of our evacuation during the Sonoma County fires.

Mrs. OC was the point of the speaking trip, but I needed to talk about the fires with people who loved me and who cared enough to listen.

The stories horrified them, but in talking about them and seeing a place untouched by fire, something in me began to relax.

The green hills of Virginia, the different life of my friends, the joy of being with them–it all helped.

Handling the emotions

One friend voiced her sadness that so many of us have “moved on” while her family remained stuck in limbo.

I’ve paid attention to her comments since the October events–as she talks about an incomprehensible experience.

I’ve tried to be a better listener. I ask my friends how they’re doing. I rejoice in small things and sometimes I weep with them at the enormity of what they face.

Often I wish I could trade my home for their empty shelter–if only for a week to help.

But when you’ve lost your home, someone else’s house won’t help.

I fear some of my cherished friends will make the same choice others have–and move on.

Ten months after the October events, I finally drove to the scraped home sites belonging to several friends.

Trying to respect their privacy, I hadn’t visited before–but now they gave me permission.

I’d heard the stories. I’ve witnessed their despair. I’ve cried over their decisions.

But that day I stopped to actually see.

How could those houses where I’ve attended so many parties simply be gone?

I’m not sure I’ll ever fully comprehend where all the granite countertops went that dreadful night of October 8-9, 2017.

Can someone explain how stone vaporized into thin air?

How am I different a year later?

I used to love the wind–the wilder the better. Now I don’t trust it.

My ability to concentrate is only slowly coming back. In the early months, it was impossible to read a long book.

I try not to sweat the small stuff.

I still carry a mask in the car.

The unexpected smell of smoke unnerves me.

I sign off my phone conversations by saying “love you.”

Standing by

I pay attention to community activities by reading the Northern California Firestorm Update Facebook page.

Friends who moved away often comment.

I try to be sensitive to what fire survivors need. We pray for our friends and neighbors often at church.

I didn’t lose my home in the Sonoma County fires.

But I’ll never be the same.

Tweetables

Personal reflections 1 year after the Sonoma County fires. Click to Tweet

Survivor’s guilt, lost friends and how to cope with a natural disaster. Click to Tweet

How does granite evaporate? And other fire reflections 1 year later. Click to Tweet