As the calendar turns to November, I can’t help but remember the people in my life who have passed on. I guess it’s my Catholic upbringing. November is that month, the month that begins with All Saints Day (which is a Catholic school holiday) and All Souls Day (which is not ). I’ve often thought that should be reversed. After all, the people who we’ve known and loved seem far more important to honor than the people we didn’t and certainly can’t name.

The annual tradition of Dia de los Muertos, the celebration of the remembrance of the dead in the Mexican tradition has always drawn me in, captivated me with the brightly colored ofrendas, the calaveras literarias, the sugar skulls, the brilliant orange marigolds and of course, the food prepared both to feed the living and share with those who have gone before. Around the town where I live, the celebration is championed by my friend Margo and includes altars that decorate the local windows and store fronts and a celebration that includes a procession through the town.

This year, though, the celebration was cancelled. Our county is in the throws of yet another serious fire emergency. The Kincaide Fire has burned thousands of acres, destroyed homes and wineries and displaced many more who have fled to evacuation centers while the firefighters and first responders have worked tirelessly to put out the fires and save the large residential communities of our county. They have done and continue to do, a remarkable job and we owe them a huge amount of gratitude. Volunteers have streamed into our community. Organizations like World Central Kitchen, have fed thousands. People have lined up ready with donations of clothing, water, and supplies to help those in need.

I have received lots of emails and texts from family and friends, both in and out of the country, wondering how we are. The news coverage has been fast and furious. Sadly this has become status quo for the past few Octobers in California. Just two years ago the Tubbs Fire rampaged our county, burning the homes of so many of my friends and colleagues, many of whom are still trying to get their lives back on track.

What I know as a social worker is that after the flames are put out, the struggle continues. New homes need to be found. Nerves need to settled. Lives put back together. It is a long journey, one that I am reminded of when I look in the faces of my friends and students who lost everything just a few years ago. It doesn’t end when the flames are put out. In fact, that is just the beginning.

It is in these moments that I see the true nature of our community, the love and dedication that comes when the nights are the darkest. They are the true saints among us.