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Diego Wallraf was on a retreat in India last week when his Pacific Palisades apartment building burned down. The physical therapist and actor lost most of his most prized possessions, including irreplaceable Tibetan singing bowls and gongs that he collected during his 15 years of traveling the world.
At first, Mr. Wallraff, 63, thought his home was safe. The fire-tracking app Watch Duty showed the fire had not spread to his area of the Palisades. But it turned out to be a false hope. The app’s maps were hours behind what was happening on the ground in real time.
“Then all of a sudden there was an update showing that the red fire zone had spread across the area,” he said. He felt “emotional sensations” in his body. “Wait, did I lose everything I owned?”
Soon, he received confirmation through images of his building “left in rubble.”
Wallruff is a member of a grief-stricken fraternity of Los Angeles County residents who fear life as they know it will go up in smoke amid the raging Palisades and Eaton fires. I watched from a distance.
In interviews with several residents whose homes were destroyed in places as far away as Europe, Asia and New York, they shared a range of similar sentiments. It was a feeling of helplessness in the face of the fury of nature. They panicked while waiting to see if their home was still standing. Guilt for being away during the tragedy was mixed with a sense that things could have been much worse.
By Saturday, Wallraff had learned positive lessons from the week’s experiences and reflected on the love of her family and friends.
“Nothing is guaranteed in this life. It could be over tomorrow, it could be over in 10 minutes,” he said. “It highlights the interconnectedness of all of us. It doesn’t matter what community you belong to, fire doesn’t discriminate.”
Helena Stewart and her husband were at their New York vacation home Tuesday when they learned of a massive fire in the Palisades, where they bought property in 1994 for their dream home.
At first, she wondered whether she should catch a flight back to Los Angeles, but soon a neighbor told her that the sunlit stucco house on a narrow alley with expansive views of the Pacific Ocean was in ruins. I received a video showing this.
“I started crying. My husband said, ‘Well, you’re lucky we weren’t there, aren’t you glad we weren’t there?’ ” she said. “I said no, because at first you want to be there to do something, but you really can’t do anything, can’t do anything, can’t do anything.”
By Friday, Ms Stewart, 73, said she was still feeling “devastated, numb, sad and all those devastating emotions.”
But she also felt grateful.
Only Hearts, the boutique she opened in Santa Monica in 1989, still stands, but she worries about its fate after the Palisades fire evacuation zone was expanded last week to include parts of the coastal city. I was feeling it.
“I can’t even watch this on TV,” she said.
Richard Kipling and his wife, Alison Soden, were at their vacation home in Santa Fe, New Mexico, when they learned that their home in Altadena had been destroyed by the Eaton Fire.
Kipling, a former Los Angeles Times editor and journalism professor, said he doesn’t think there was much he could have done had he stayed in California.
“There was a lot of confusion going on,” he said. “When you leave town, at least you’re free of the maelstrom and you don’t have to breathe bad air or drink bad water.”
The couple learned from evacuated neighbors that their home was one of more than 20 on the block destroyed by the fire. They were scheduled to return Thursday, but the insurance adjuster told them there was no reason to do so. No one is allowed into the neighborhood, and the debris left behind by the fire is highly toxic.
As a result, Kipling, 80, is left with a strange mixture of gratitude and sadness.
“We’re lucky that the fire didn’t destroy us, and we’re lucky that we have a second home here in Santa Fe,” he said. “But in terms of the sense of loss, it’s terrible… It’s just devastating for the community that we love.”
He also described a type of survivor’s guilt shared by those lucky enough to avoid painful experiences when others are left to suffer.
“Our friends were going through pain and suffering, knowing their homes didn’t exist, and here we are in this beautiful place,” he said. “We feel sorry for them, but it’s also hard for us to know that our home was destroyed.”
Now, between the fire’s damaging aftermath and the challenges of dealing with insurance companies and housing red tape, Kipling and Soden are wondering whether to build another house to replace the one they lost.
“I’m 80 years old,” Kipling said. “I said to my wife, ‘If we decide to rebuild, we may never see the end of the rebuild.'”
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