Help The Braddy Family Rebuild From The Ashes

The sound of howling winds jolted us awake from a restless sleep. It was the dead of night. We stumbled outside, hearts racing, drawn by feeling that something was terribly wrong. The winds nearly knocking us off our feet, and all around us, glowing embers. It took a moment for our minds to catch up with the chaos, but then, as we stood there in shock, we saw the flames in the hills just above us. That’s when my mother, Sheri Braddy, said, “We’ve got to go!”

In that frantic moment, there was a whirlwind of shouting—grab this, don’t forget that. But in the end, we fled in the clothes on our backs, leaving behind the only home I’ve known. I remember the scent of smoke curling through the air, and the grip of fear in the pit of my stomach. We weren’t sure where to go, so we made our way to our church on Fair Oaks. When we arrived, we found a handful of other souls, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear, mirroring our own. But even there, the smoke began to creep in, thick and suffocating. When we stepped outside, the world around us had turned black.

It wasn’t long—perhaps only twenty minutes—before we had to evacuate once more. We found refuge in another church not far away, where we huddled together for what felt like an eternity but it was probably only 9 to 10 hours. Our Pastor, John T. McCall, worked tirelessly to secure a place for us to stay, while we clung to each other. I will never forget the strength of my mother who kept whispering words of comfort and holding my hand.

When morning finally came, it became clear that we had lost everything on January 8, 2025. I understand now what it truly means to have just “the clothes on my back.” The walls that once held our memories were reduced to ashes, and with them, the pieces of our hearts that we had held dear. It’s not the house itself that we grieve for; it’s the life we had built. Grandma Ida and Uncle Tony urns - gone. Our cherished family photos—captured moments of joy, love, and togetherness—are gone. I can still see the images in my mind: my grandmother’s warm smile and strong personality, my uncle’s playful and witty sayings, the birthday and holiday celebration snapshots, all now lost to the flames.

My mother, assures us that she’s standing tall for our family. “I never thought I’d be homeless,” she confides, her voice soft but resolute. “We have to stand, be ready, stay strong, stay focused. We have hope and people who love us. God has more planned for us.” In the midst of her own devastation, she is already thinking of her job and where we might find a new place to call home. We were renting, and the uncertainty of our future looms heavily over us.

My parents are our rock. My father, a retired X-ray technician, has been a source of unwavering support, while my mother works overnight at Walmart, pouring her heart into caring for others during the day. She loves her work so much that she is determined to pursue becoming an LVN, with plans to start at PCC next semester. Their resilience inspires me, yet the weight of our loss presses down on us like an anchor.

I am Auriel Braddy and my family and I are reaching out for help during this unimaginable time. Your contributions will be a lifeline, assisting us with unexpected costs and helping us find our footing once again. We seek support to address the many facets of recovery and to rebuild our lives, so that we can once more create memories, capture moments, and find our way back to hope. We are raising funds to recover and support our neighbors and family. Together, we can rise from the ashes.