#10 GOOD GRIEF NEWS
ABOUT THE L.A. FIRES, OBJECTS & MEMORIES AND A NEXT LEVEL ‘DEATH CLEANING’
Megan Mantia and her boyfriend Thomas return to Mantia's fire-damaged home after the Eaton Fire swept through the area in Altadena, Calif (Ethan Swope/AP).
As the news move on, I keep thinking about the fires that raged through parts of Los Angeles earlier this month. My heart goes out to those affected and I'm hopeful that the fires are (and will remain) under control.
In the aftermath, I found myself reflecting on what it means to lose a home, a place that stands as a witness to our lives. A home isn’t just a building; it’s a collection of moments, objects, and memories—things that tell the story of who we are, where we’ve been, and what we love.
When Objects Speak for Us
In such situations, people are very quick to tell themselves or others that this is of course only material damage. But can it be so easily talked down?
The grief support platform Modernloss has aptly put the meaning of losing a home into words: “Losing that kind of anchor is a profound grief; one that shakes your sense of safety and self.”
Screenshot from an Instagram post by Modernloss.
I also came across a post by Yasi Salek (@yasisalek) on Instagram that adds a personal, poignant touch about the symbolic weight of such losses:
“I do know it’s just stuff, I really do. It was also thousands of pieces of me, outward expressions of my passions and tastes and all my past versions of self. Things I loved. Decades of poring over thrift stores, vintage stores, antique malls, the internet. So many unique pieces of clothing. God I loved my clothes so much. All my old band t-shirts! Hundreds of 80s and 90s music magazines. Hundreds of records, tapes, CDs, zines. Art, photos, every concert ticket stub since I was 12. Letters, photos, gifts from friends. Items picked up from all the places I’ve traveled. A lifetime of books, thousands of them, novels and art books and out of print music books. I felt so protected and cocooned by these things, grounded in my own history. It’s all gone now and that’s okay. I feel oddly shapeless without these things that defined me, untethered.”
This quote struck me. It underscores how our belongings act as anchors to our identity. In their absence, it’s not just material loss—it’s the disorientation of losing parts of yourself.
Screenshot from an Instagram post by Yasi Salek.
Preparing for Future Grief
Unfortunately, natural disasters are not uncommon in these regions and for some, these fires weren’t their first loss. In an interview with the Wall Street Journal, Adria Kloke, a Pacific Palisades evacuee, shared how her past experiences of devastating fires shaped her preparation for this threat and how she prepared for the grief to come.
“(Walking through the house…) You are essentially celebrating everything you have collected over the years, everything you have curated, everything you chose for one reason or another. And the idea that you are talking about theses things, what they mean to you, where they came from, is so directly at odds with what you are doing, which is preparing to lose them.”
There can be grief in imagining what we might lose. It’s a form of mourning that begins in anticipation, as you say goodbye to what defines your everyday life.
Coping through Rituals
In the face of loss, brave moments of little farewell ceremonies stand out. I’ve seen beautiful examples from those trying to hold space for grief. One family gathered to sing in the ruins of their home; another shared beers from their half burned fridge as a final goodbye.
These small rituals show us that coping isn’t about rushing past grief—it’s about pausing to honor what’s been lost (and of course that can be very difficult). Holding space means allowing the grief to be open, sharing it with others, and allowing grief to guide action. Allow it to transform into anger, love and a passionate commitment to protect what remains and fight for what can still be saved.
Screenshot from an Instagram post by Good Grief, original by Bette Midler.
What Fires Teach Us About Possessions
The fires also made me think about MY relationship with MY objects. How do I actually decide what to keep as a memento and what to let go?
Over the years, movements like Marie Kondo’s “spark joy” philosophy and Margareta Magnusson’s The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning have encouraged us to reflect on the things we own, each from a specific angle.
Magnusson’s concept, döstädning, involves decluttering with the awareness that others will one day inherit—or dispose of—our belongings. It’s a way of lightening the emotional and physical load before it becomes a burden for others.
But what happens when the decision is almost taken out of our hands? Could the idea of a 'fire escape' be a different way of looking at your things? When there is only little time to decide what to take with you if you have to evacuate your home.
A friend of mine mentioned that there is a list of essentials, called the 6 P’s:
People & pets
Papers (important documents)
Prescriptions
Photos
Phones/computers
Plastic (bank/credit cards)
These are certainly very practical things to take. But let’s use this idea to reflect on what other things are of value to us. Ask yourself: Which eight items would you take with you if you only had 30 minutes to leave your house? What is a valuable memory of loved ones, what is part of your history, what do you need to feel YOU? Write the items down on a piece of paper... and perhaps this is an exercise you could repeat every year.
This thought process is less about decluttering and more about understanding the emotional weight we place on our belongings. It’s a way of honoring what matters most while acknowledging the impermanence of everything we own.
Grief isn’t only about what’s lost—it’s also about remembering. I recently read about the role objects play in keeping memories alive. A loved one’s favorite chair, a photograph, or even a recipe book can become touchstones, allowing us to stay connected to their spirit.
In moments like these, I’m reminded of the power of objects—not as material possessions, but as vessels for memory and meaning. Fires, as devastating as they are, challenge us to redefine our relationship with these things and to consider how we carry our stories forward, even when the physical anchors are gone.
💡 Further Exploration: Objects, Memory & Grief
If you’re interested in the emotional significance of objects and how they help us process loss and remember, here are two recommendations:
📖 Book: Saved – Objects of the Dead
Artist Jody Servon and poet Lorene Delany-Ullman collected deeply personal stories about seemingly ordinary objects left behind by loved ones—things that may appear mundane but hold immense emotional weight. This book is a moving exploration of grief, memory, and the way physical items anchor us to those we’ve lost. More about the book here.
🎨 Mourning Art: Transforming Everyday Objects
Philosopher and artist Dr. Pavel Radchenko sees art as a powerful tool for processing grief. Through his work, he transforms everyday objects—like a coffee cup or a pen—into meaningful memorials, offering a new way to honor a loved one’s history. His workshops guide participants through this creative process, turning personal belongings into art that helps navigate loss. For a deeper look into mourning art, explore his DIY instructions.
💁♀️ I’d love to hear from you—if you know of similar projects, books, or artists exploring grief, memory, and objects, feel free to share them with me. I’m always curious to learn more!
Thanks for reading!
👉🏼 Are you interested in learning more about my research or exploring opportunities for collaboration? Send me an email and let's start the conversation!
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Thank you for reading GOOD GRIEF NEWS, a monthly newsletter on trends and fresh perspectives around death, grief and remembrance. You can see more of my work at goodgrief.me or stefanieschillmoeller.com and feel free to follow me on Instagram.
28.12.2024