Fire grief, and helping kids were on our minds in both 2017 and 2020.
All of us were affected–and we didn’t even lose our homes.
My own family, as described here, felt fire grief and worried about our kids.
For those who did lose their homes profound fire grief settled–and lasted a long time.
And then there were the kids.
Very tough.
Yes, I’m thinking about Southern California.
How did people handle fire grief, and helping kids?
As best they could.
As I wrote here, our school district did a fine job using the arts to help children sort out their emotions and what happened to them and their families.
In our case, my granddaughters (ages seven, six, five, and four) acted out a play.
The oldest entered first wearing a hat. “I’m the fireman!”
#2 came in waving a piece of red cloth. “I’m the fire!”
The four-year-old crawled in barking. “I’m the fireman’s dog!”
Our third granddaughter carried a set of pom-poms: “I’m the water putting out the fire!”
They laughed, acted and when it was done (the red cloth fire stamped onto the floor) they grabbed hands.
“Thank you first responders!”
And then those four little evacuees bowed. “All done.”
What about seven years after the home burned down?
I spoke with friends recently about their experiences in 2017 when their house burned down.
The couple were united in their focus on their children even as they worked through the hard decision: rebuild or move?
Mom: “It was one of the biggest concerns we had. We tried to keep as many things as normal for them as possible.” They lived in several places, often with friends, as they worked through insurance and rebuilding issues.
Over eighteen months, they got plans to rebuild and cleared their property of fire debris. But road blocks kept coming up. When the children’s school closed, the decision became simple.
“That was the a-ha moment for us,” Mom recounted. “We chose stability for our children.”
They relocated to an area near close friends, found an excellent school, built a house, and are content.
For the moment.
Things for parents to consider
Everyone in the family processes fire grief a different way. The decision to rebuild or to move is a personal one for a family.
Moving away from a former community can be hard on everyone.
“But, you know, it’s the age of technology,” Mom said. The now-teenaged daughter talks to friends “back home” frequently.
When the family moved, “we said to people, we’re not going to be the ones that leave and cut ties. And we’ve made good on that,” Mom explained.
I can attest to their success. We’re always happy to see them, surprised at the childrens’ growth, and fall right back into conversation.
But we miss them.
And they miss us.
Fire grief and heaven
Even though our home survived two fires (the last reached 1/2 block from our house), I’m changed by living through the experiences of my friends and relatives.
I’m reluctant, for example, to replace the carpeting. My emotional reaction is, “why bother? It’s just going to burn.”
A friend has the same feeling–to the shock of his wife.
We both know that’s an irrational thought, but there it is.
For our friends, life divides into “before the fire” and “after the fire.”
“At the end of the day,” Mom said, “I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is that this is not my home.”
Sitting in her new home, she reflected, “My home is in heaven, and this is the house that I get to live in until I get there.”
She smiled ruefully. “That’s really what it is, and that’s what it was before. But I think we forget that idea because we become so comfortable.
“I feel like I’ve learned that lesson more deeply than I ever have before.”
As for the kids?
They know the love of their parents, they’re in a wonderful school, and close friends live nearby.
They even know me–and danced through the interview, showed me artwork, and answered a few questions.
The kids are all right.
And we’re all grateful.
Tweetables
How to help kids when fire consumes their home. Click to Tweet
“Heaven is our home,” and fire grief. Click to Tweet
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