The Ripple Effect of Disaster: Understanding the Different Layers of Grief After the Southern California Fires
There are no words to fully capture the heaviness that rests on the shoulders of those who have lost their homes and belongings in the recent Southern California fires—particularly in areas like Eaton and Palisades. The devastation is immeasurable, and it goes far beyond the physical destruction of homes. As I reflect on the situation, all I can think about are the layers of grief that these individuals are, and will continue to, experience.
The loss these people face isn’t just about possessions—it’s about a profound rupture in their world. When the fire swept through densely populated areas, it didn’t just destroy houses; it took with it everything that anchors people to their everyday lives—churches, schools, grocery stores, community centers. These are not just places, they are emotional landmarks, giving us a sense of routine, belonging, and orientation. When these structures vanish, it’s like a mental map is erased, leaving people feeling unmoored and vulnerable.
In times like these, it’s important to recognize that the community experience of disaster is diverse, and each group is navigating its own unique path of grief:
Those who lost everything: For those whose homes have been reduced to ash, the loss is unimaginable. It’s not just about losing material things, but the memories, the milestones, and the identity that was tied to that space. These individuals are now facing the daunting task of rebuilding their lives from the ground up, with no mental map of what comes next.
Those evacuated but spared: Evacuees who were lucky enough to still have their homes intact are not immune to the emotional toll. While their homes may still stand, the experience of being forced to leave, of witnessing the destruction around them, creates its own kind of trauma. They face the psychological strain of survivor’s guilt, fear of the unknown, and the anxiety of not knowing if their homes will still be there when they return.
Witnesses and the broader community: Even those who were not directly impacted by the fires—who watched from a distance or listened to stories of destruction—are also affected. There’s a collective anxiety that ripples through the community. We all share in this experience of vulnerability, even if we haven’t lost something tangible. The fear of what’s happening, and what could still happen, is hard to shake.
First responders and volunteers: The brave men and women who risked their lives to battle the fires are also grappling with their own emotions. The trauma they witness firsthand, the lives they are unable to save, and the weight of their role in such a devastating event leave scars of their own.
The paths of grief and recovery are different for everyone. What we share, however, is the overwhelming sense of helplessness and anxiety that comes in the wake of such a crisis. We live in an age where information is at our fingertips, and while the constant updates on the fires have been both helpful and, at times, overwhelming, we are left with a deep sense of what we can’t control.
So, what do we do in times of community crisis? How do we channel the feelings of helplessness and anxiety when it seems like there’s nothing we can do?
First and foremost, we need to listen. To those who have lost everything, to those who are evacuated, to first responders, and to the community around us. Listening, truly listening, helps us connect with their pain, their fears, and their hopes for the future. It helps them feel seen and heard, something that can be incredibly healing in the midst of such loss.
We need to act in ways that foster unity. Whether it’s donating time, money, or resources, or simply offering a place for someone to stay, small acts of kindness and solidarity can create the foundation for a long road to recovery. The emotional impact of such a disaster can’t be solved overnight, but the collective effort of a community can make a difference in how people heal.
And perhaps most importantly, we must give space for long-term healing. Right now, the news is covering the fires, the devastation, the recovery efforts. But when the cameras leave, when the headlines shift to something else, the people affected by these fires will still be grieving, still displaced, still rebuilding. This process will take years. Our role as a community is to continue showing up, even when the fire is no longer front-page news. Grief doesn’t follow a schedule—it’s ongoing, it’s complex, and it requires ongoing support.
In times of crisis, we must remember that healing is not a quick fix—it’s a journey. One that requires patience, empathy, and a recognition that the mental map of a community is forever changed. But by coming together, supporting one another, and listening with open hearts, we can help each other find new paths forward, even in the face of overwhelming loss.
For those affected by the fires, and for all of us, the road to recovery will be long. But as we move forward, let us not forget the deeper grief behind the headlines, and the communities still finding their way home.
*If you are someone who has lost a home to one of these fires and are seeking therapy, I am offering limited spots at a sliding scale.