This past month has been one I never imagined we’d live through. I honestly don’t think I’ve fully wrapped my brain around the fact that most of the street where our family made memories for the past 20 years, has now turned to rubble. I feel guilty saying that thankfully our home survived since so many of my dear neighbors lost theirs in what has now been classified as the second worst natural disaster California has ever seen and one of the worst in US history… and it happened literally in our backyard. Getting back to normalcy has been challenging to say the least, but I finally have gathered the strength to sit down and reflect on what this past month has been like.
I’ve lived in this neighborhood since I was seven years old, and in that time, we’ve faced three major wildfires. This last one, the Eaton fire, was nothing like what we’ve experienced before because of how fast it spread and how far it reached. The combination of 80-100 MPH winds and dry conditions turned this monster into an uncontrollable force, consuming everything in its path. I was able to track the timestamps from our group texts with our neighbors to give the perspective of how fast it all happened.
January 7th
6:34 pm: We were standing in front of our home watching the flames in the distance over Eaton Canyon.
6:38 pm: My friend Tamar, who lives in Altadena called me in a panic. Her neighborhood was up in flames. She was evacuating and telling me to do the same. I didn’t think our situation was that dire and told her we’re fine.
6:52 pm: The flames had reached our side of the mountain in Northeast Pasadena.
7:29 pm, The EVACUATE NOW orders came in by text from the county. I now had to make quick decisions on which items were the most important to save from our home.
When you have only minutes to decide what to take, you quickly realize what matters most. I rushed to grab my essentials, — my wedding pictures which were not yet digitized (that is now on my to-do list), my laptop and iPad, medication, one backpack of my favorite art materials, the sketchbook that holds the two first illustrations that launched my collection, citizenship papers and passports. I also packed a few personal items: my pillow and a bag of clothes for the unknown days ahead but forgot my toothbrush and thought no worries, I can always buy another one-not realizing the stores were also going to close for several days. It’s a surreal feeling, standing in your home, knowing that within hours, or even minutes, it could all be gone.
7:32 pm: With our essentials in hand, my daughter Sosse, our dog Bacheeg, and I left for my sister Peggy’s house, still in Pasadena but further south from the mountains. Joe, my husband, was reluctant to leave—he wanted to stay back, to be close to our home, to protect what he could. I was angry with him because he would not listen to me and come with us but he’s a former paramedic/fireman and his instinct was to protect for as long as he could. He stayed back, watered down our home, helped control hot-spots and in hindsight, saved many homes including ours.
9:55 pm: Homes around ours were fully engulfed. Joe was now also forced to leave. We thought we had found safety at my sister’s house. An hour later after we had arrived, Pasadena Police were announcing immediate evacuations on megaphones. It was surreal. At this point, we rushed to the car, brainstorming who we can call, who would take us in, four adults and a dog at this time of night. My sister quickly texted our childhood friend Hasmig who lives in Montebello, half an hour drive south, further from the burning mountains. Hasmig, without hesitation, opened her home to us.
We spent the night eyes wide open, waiting helplessly to hear any news we could on social media and on the group text. In my mind, I was running through all the items in our home, trying to decide which I would mourn most for. My paintings and photos were clearly at the top of my list.
4:30 am: We received the best (and worst) news from our dear neighbor who had decided to drive through our street. He sent a video which showed our home was still standing, but showed the devastation of multiple neighbors’ homes lost and some still ablaze. It was such a mixed bunch of feelings. I cried from relief but hurt for my friends. Survivor guilt kicked in. Where do we go from here? What are they all going to do?
As soon as the sun rose, Joe decided to return to our neighborhood, unable to stay away, while the rest of us left for another friend’s house closer to home. Over the next several days, we hopped from place to place, staying with friends who graciously opened their homes to us. It was a humbling experience—being displaced, feeling uprooted, and relying on the kindness of others. We weren’t the only ones going through this—4300 homes were destroyed in Altadena, Pasadena and Sierra Madre, 9418 structures in total. At the same time, 5,419 homes were also lost in the completely annihilated city of Pacific Palisades and neighboring Malibu. 9,719 homes, 9,719 families lost everything in one night.
These wildfires brought out both the worst and the best in people. As the fires were raging, looters decided to take advantage of people’s worst nightmare and broke into the homes still standing to steal what they could. In my best friend’s neighborhood, they used an axe to break the front doors of multiple homes to get in. What the homeowners were not able to save, the looters took. One person broke into our backyard with a carload of thieves waiting in the car to join her. Fortunately, Joe was protecting our home, sitting in the dark. He scared her off and for the rest of the days until the National Guard came in, he and a few of our neighbors set up camping chairs in front of our street with some snacks and drinks and scared off anyone who drove by that was not from our neighborhood. They were our heroes.
For the next several weeks, we stayed with my sister as Joe stayed at home with no utilities and contaminated tap water. When the electricity and gas was turned back on, I felt so much joy that I got to go back home. But nothing could have prepared me to witness what had happened to my beautiful neighborhood. I drove down our street, my hand on my mouth in utter shock and disbelief. All I could whisper was,’OH MY GOD” over and over again. It was a scene that you would see in apocalyptic movies. Lives were destroyed. Cars burned. The washing machines which would fill the air with the smell of clean laundry a few weeks before, stood in complete destruction. That air was now toxic to breathe. Who was going to come back? Where would our neighbors go? When would we wave again as they drove past, going home after a hard day of work. Our lives changed forever.
As I reflect now, I realize that this experience, as devastating as it was, also reinforced a valuable lesson: things can be replaced, but people cannot. The love, support, and kindness we received during this time meant everything. I hesitantly drove through the local FEMA distribution center to pick up cases of free bottled water not only to drink, but to brush our teeth and cook with because our water was contaminated. As I was driving through the line, the volunteers asked how I was and gave me their blessings. They told me we were all in this together. It reminded me that in moments of crisis, what we truly value becomes crystal clear— it’s not material possessions, but people and memories that shape our lives.
Where do we go from here?
Mister Rogers had a saying that when you see scary things, look for the helpers. The incredible acts of generosity have been the silver lining in this tragedy. Neighbors helping each other care for their pets, strangers offering shelter, water, food, and communities coming together in ways that highlight the goodness in humanity. I decided to open my studio to artists from the area who need a place to create and share my art materials. We have started gathering, creating together, talking, listening and supporting each other. It has been therapy for us.
My daughter Sosse designed a very cool t-shirt on behalf of our family business, Code 3 life, in support of Sierra Madre’s first responders. 100% of the net proceeds will be donated to Sierra Madre Police and Fire Departments. We have a limited number remaining, and Code 3 Life will be making a generous donation in the coming weeks. Even small acts of kindness can create a big impact.
Another meaningful way to make a difference is by supporting the small businesses that continue to persevere.
The staff at my favorite grocery store on the border of Altadena and Pasadena, Armen Market, which is usually crowded but is not anymore, thanked me for shopping there because they have lost the majority of their patrons. Same with the Pasadena Farmer’s Market whose attendance is down 30-50% since the fires. If you wish to make a difference, give them your business.
I started sketching at the Pasadena Farmer’s Market and am inviting friends to do the same.
I am including two Go Fund Me links below. One is for Joe’s cousin who has been my immediate neighbor for over 20 years and lost everything. The other is for the beautiful Sahag Mesrob school (SMACS) which was completely destroyed. My daughters both attended SMACS during their formative years. I also taught art there.
Support Sara & Daughters After Losing Everything In The Fire
Help & Support Sahag-Mesrob Armenian Christian School
To everyone who checked in, offered a place to stay, or simply sent a kind message — I thank you. Your kindness made all the difference. We are truly all in this together. We are DENA STRONG.
