Help Roz Rebuild Her Beloved Family Home

Hello, my name is Roz, and for more than 50 years, I have called the same house in Altadena my home. It’s where I grew up, where my parents built a life for our family, and where my father poured his heart into a beautiful garden filled with exotic plants. Every tree, every flower, and every patch of soil carries a memory—but now it’s all gone.

I never thought I’d be in this position, asking for help to rebuild what was taken from me. I’m 65 years old, and I’ve spent my life surrounded by the things my father and I created together. When I was younger, I worked for the Agricultural Commissioner’s Office, and when I left, my coworkers gifted me some exotic plants. I planted them at my new house, only to later discover that my dad, who was obsessed with beautiful plants, had dug them up and moved them back to our original home! I couldn’t even be mad—it was just another way he showed his love for our garden and our family.

Another memory I cherish is the time I tried to grow a pumpkin patch one fall. I didn’t realize that one seed was enough—so I planted way too many! Soon, they started sprouting uncontrollably, and my dad had to come to my rescue, doing damage control before the entire yard was overtaken. The same thing happened with sunflowers, and once again, he quietly helped me fix my mistake. It became our little secret—something we never told my mom about, but a moment I’ll always hold close to my heart.

When my father passed away, I moved back into our family home and found comfort in the garden he left behind. Seeing his plants thrive made me feel like he was still with me. It was my safe space, my connection to him.

But now, it’s all gone.

I lost my home, my father’s garden, and the place that held all my memories. And what’s worse—I don’t qualify for FEMA assistance. I’m doing everything I can to get back on my feet, but I can’t do this alone.

That’s why I’m reaching out and asking for your help. Any amount you can give will help me rebuild my home and restore what I’ve lost. It’s not just about bricks and walls—it’s about preserving the love, history, and roots that have shaped my life.

If you can donate, I would be forever grateful. And if you can’t, please consider sharing my story. Every bit of support makes a difference.

Thank you for reading, for caring, and for helping me find my way home.

With gratitude,

Roz