Help Janet Graham Recover After Wildfire Loss

I am devastated to share that my mother, Janet Graham, lost her beloved home of nearly 40 years in Malibu's Las Flores Canyon in the Palisades fire. This was also the home I grew up in, the place that formed me; a sanctuary and safe haven for our family and the many friends we hosted over the years.

My late father, William A. Graham, a film and television director, found this home in 1987, when houses in the area were affordable—today, they'd be priced out of the area—and together my creative, adventurous, unconventional parents created a beautiful bohemian life there. It felt, inside, like the interior of a ship; fitting, as my father was an avid sailor. High vaulted wooden ceilings, a stone fireplace, walls lined with countless books, oil paintings of ships at sea. The coziest kitchen, hung with my father's collection of copper pots and cast-iron pans, where we always gathered and cooked so many nourishing meals. That kitchen, its warmth, the Wolf stove with its red hood, is perhaps what remains most burned in my memory. From outside, you could see the mountain ridge, and beyond that the Pacific Ocean. The basin of our canyon filling with fog; that particular orange light at dusk, when the sun hit the ocean, irradiating the wooden walls; a star-stippled sky that often left me breathless. Crickets, scent of eucalyptus and wild sage. It was quiet, wild, magical. Standing on our wooden deck, looking out at the vastness of the landscape I loved so deeply, I felt small in the best of ways; held. Safe, despite the volatility of the region where my parents made their home.

My mother evacuated early, as soon as she received the first Santa Ana warning—the same way she did just one month ago, during the Franklin Fire. My family has evacuated countless times before—my earliest memory is fleeing as the Old Topanga Fire raged through our canyon in 1993; my father heading back up the mountain on his motorcycle to help save our home—and this time, she took only her passport, laptop, a change of clothes, and our family dog, Leo. She thought she'd be back in a few days. Our home burned to the ground with everything she owns inside—every photograph, journal, irreplaceable family heirloom; everything left of my father—and she finds herself with essentially only the clothes on her back.

A beloved therapist, my mother is a born nurturer who has devoted her life to supporting others. She is kind, funny, curious, irreverent, steadfast, intuitive, impossibly wise. Her depth, integrity, devotion, compassion, and resilience know no bounds. She nursed my father through six years of a traumatic brain injury before his death in 2013; rebuilt her life and career after that loss; nursed me through a harrowing mental health crisis that nearly cost me my life in 2021. Anyone who knows her knows the gift of being seen and held by her.

We are among so many who have lost everything. The magnitude of this collective tragedy is unthinkable. I know that many are stretched thin right now, but I am reaching out to our community now for support as my 71-year-old mother begins the difficult journey of rebuilding her life from scratch. Your contribution, no matter the size, will help with essentials as my mother gets back on her feet. If you're able, please consider donating, or simply sharing this page. Every act of kindness makes a difference.

With immense gratitude,

Annabel Graham