Fire Diaries Part 1: Letters...

UGH....

(My Backyard on Fire)

This isn’t part of my Fire Update Series — that’s all about moving forward, news updates, and general information. This is different. This is going to be more emotional, more sentimental.

At the time I’m writing this, it’s been just over two months since January 7th, and I feel completely transformed. My life has changed in so many ways, both positive and negative. I’ve found a new community, a new vigor for life and the future — but I’ve also been stuck in a month-long depression. I need to pull myself out of it.

I hope this series helps me name and release the burdens I’m carrying after this loss. It’ll be random… a stream of consciousness about what I feel, specifically tied to the fire.

I can’t stop thinking about the letters.

If you know me, you know I was born and raised just 20 minutes from all four of my grandparents. I spent most of my life seeing both sets once a week — Saturdays with my dad’s parents, Sundays with my mom’s.

The only time I was ever far from them was during my four years away at college. When I came back home in 2018, both of my mom’s parents were diagnosed with dementia — my grandpa while I was still in school, and my grandma shortly after I returned. Those letters became even more special after that.

While I was away, my mom’s mom and I would write letters to each other. Hers were filled with encouragement, questions, and sometimes a little check for "pocket money." Mine were full of updates, promises that I was staying focused on my studies — earnest, hopeful, honest.

I didn’t grab them.

I didn’t grab them.

I didn’t fucking grab them.

I didn’t fucking grab them.

Fuck.

Love,
The Swan