Grief and Ash and Blue Skies and Lemons

just over a week out/resources for disabled persons and how you can help them

This morning I left for work and took this photo because the sky was so blue and the palms were barely waving. Those of you who are caregivers have intimate knowledge of the world going on around you as your own seems to be out of control. This past week, even amidst the horror, there was a certain familiarity to it, a certain deep knowing of not knowing, fear of death of discomfort and suffering. In some ways, we caregivers are honed to cope with, quite literally, anything. Tens of thousands of humans were homeless in this city before the great fire, and that also haunts me. The week behind us has been surreal. So much grief and ash.Today the sky was clear and blue. There was still a faint tinge of smoke in the air. There’s ash on my car, on the plants, a dusting on everything. I am wearing a mask outside, the familiarity of that. I think everyone is traumatized, and those of us not directly affected by the fires must push aside our own feelings of anxiety and distress and sorrow to help those who have lost everything. That helps the anxiety and distress and sorrow. I think that’s the only way to get through. I hope you’ll join us and help. The spectre of the incoming government — that dystopian group of predators — adds an impossibly heavy layer to it all. What will become of us? I was reminded this morning by a friend of the serenity prayer — God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference — and I suppose that brings a measure of calm, but it also feels super weird to be whole and well and safely ensconced in your home with all your possessions piled around you when so much was lost. Not just things. Lives. Powerful and indelible feelings of permanence and place. Landscape, both natural and urban. The light of LA. Home. Who are we kidding? It’s all tenuous, this world, this life.

There’s a stretch of the Malibu coast that we all love, that was just about perfectly beautiful, a fine curve of road and sand, beach and lifeguard stand, surfers and the impossible blue of the Pacific, now burnt to the ground, and I can’t get that out of my head. Carl and I have eaten fried shrimp platters at The Reel Inn, a dilapidated fish shack, probably dozens of times and watched so many sunsets, even during the pandemic when we lined up six feet from one another and ate at picnic tables outside, looking across the PCH at the surfers coming up from and going down to the beach.

Now the Reel Inn is gone, too.

When I got home from work this afternoon, Oliver made me lemonade with the lemons from our garden, and honestly? It tasted like flowers.

MORE RESOURCES, EMPHASIS ON HELPING THOSE WITH DISABILITIES:

• LA parents of kids with disabilities — Napa is providing wheelchairs, standers, and more to kids affected by the wildfires. Fill out the following form if you’re in need: FORM

• Displaced Disabled Folks LA Fires Mutual Aid Directory

• My beautiful friend Jessica Patay of We are Brave Together has compiled an incredible list of resources that you can read here. Specifically for disability-related:

FROM CARING ACROSS GENERATIONS | Caringacross.org

DISABILITY RESOURCES

• The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies’ Disability and Disaster Hotline

  • Call or text at 1-800-626-4959, or email at hotline@disasterstrategies.org

• SAMSA’s Disaster Distress Helpline

  • Call or text at 1-800-985-5990.

• Disability Rights California’s Wildfire Resource Guide

RESOURCES FOR AGING POPULATIONS AND THEIR CAREGIVERS

• American Red Cross’ Disaster and Emergency Preparedness for Older Adults

• American Red Cross’ Disaster and Emergency Preparedness for Caregivers

• California’s Department of Aging’s Emergency Preparedness and Response Resources

Keep reading the stories. Here’s a beautiful one by Laura Diamond, a writer whom I met many years ago when we both read/performed in Expressing Motherhood.