Susan Toler Carr and her husband, Darrell, had to see for themselves. They had gotten the devastating news from a neighbor that their home of 25 years had burned down in the fires that have ravaged the Los Angeles area since last week.
The couple fled their neighborhood in Altadena last Tuesday night for a friend’s guest house in Toluca Lake. The next day, they bypassed police roadblocks by maneuvering through a back street, passing a burning elementary school, downed power lines and trees and smoldering debris.
When they pulled up to what had been their home, most of it was gone. A part of their Spanish-style house built in 1924 was still on fire. Some of the structure stood, including a wrought iron gate commemorating the life of their son, Justin, who died in 2013 at 16 during swimming practice from idiopathic hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, an undetected heart ailment.
The profound grief the couple experienced nearly 12 years ago suddenly resurfaced.
“It was like losing Justin all over again because that house was where he grew up and we kept it as a shrine to Justin,” Susan Toler Carr said. “It was a family home where Justin’s presence was everywhere. There’s nothing like the pain of losing him. But our home was an extension of Justin.”
A family portrait of Darrell, Susan and Justin Carr.
The couple took most of Justin’s original artwork with them Jan. 7 as smoke and ember clouded the sky. Left behind, though, was so much more, like antiques belonging to Toler Carr’s mother. Her father, Burl Toler, was the first Black referee in the NFL — the first Black official in any major sport. A framed jersey he autographed for his daughter hung in Justin’s room. It was destroyed, among many other family heirlooms.
“We knew of the potential, but we hoped to be back in our home in a few days,” Toler Carr said. “You could never conceive of this.”
Also destroyed in the fire were countless pieces that belonged to Justin or represented his place in their lives.
“We have all this stuff in there, so much stuff Justin created,” Toler Carr said. “This was accumulated over years and just wiped out in seconds. We know things are replaceable, but when we have tons of memories … ”
Her voice trailed off.
Justin, an only child, was an artist, athlete, volunteer and scholar. He acted in school plays. “He was a young Renaissance man,” Carr said.
When Justin was 4, he astonished his parents when he said grace before dinner for the first time, ending it with, “I pray for world peace.”
When he died, Darrell Carr was hospitalized after a mild heart attack. “It was too much,” he said.
On Wednesday, Carr, a retired photography professor, said he got lightheaded and nearly collapsed when he and his wife saw what was left of their home. It was not the destruction, as much as it was what their home embodied.
“This was Justin’s home,” Carr said, pausing and apologizing for weeping. He composed himself and compared his feelings to the celebrated sculpture, “Melancholy” by Albert György, which depicts a man on a bench slumped over with his insides hollowed out.
“That’s how I feel: empty, sad, hurt. I don’t really have all the words,” Carr said. “But that sculpture depicts how I feel. And sometimes I feel like I don’t have any hope. After my son died, that’s the way I felt. And now this hits, and that hole in my body just got a little bigger.”
But the Carrs found some solace at the scene of so much heartbreak: Still standing and unscathed was the gate built by one of Carr’s students with the words, “Justin Carr Wants World Peace,” across it and a large butterfly in the center. Justin competed in the butterfly event as a swimmer.
It also is the name of the nonprofit they founded after their son’s death to honor him. The organization grants scholarships to high school students, sells copies of Justin’s original artwork and shares information about heart screenings, among other elements.
“It’s what Justin would have wanted,” Toler Carr said. “He cared about people, from a very young age. And everyone knew our house by that gate. It’s amazing it’s still standing.”
She also found it “amazing” that a turquoise butterfly ornament was found among the black rubble. “It’s like a war zone up there and a nightmare,” Toler Carr said. “But the gate and finding the butterfly made us happy.”
Before evacuating, Carr climbed atop the roof in gusting 80-miles-an-hour winds with a hose, attempting to fend off the fire. The wind almost blew him down. “So I got on all fours.” He attached a sprinkler to the hose and used a heavy rock to hold it in place as it oscillated and spread water over the entire roof.
“I didn’t want to lose my house,” he said. “I left feeling like we’d be OK.”
It was not. Now they are trying to raise money as they figure out what to do next.
“It is what it is,” Carr said. “We, as Black people, know how to survive. My father taught me that ‘sometimes you gotta do the hard stuff in order to get through this life.’ I’ve never forgotten it. And I taught Justin that. We will do as my father said, put one foot in front of the other. We have a great support system of friends of all races. We’re moving on. It won’t be easy. But that’s what we have to do.”
“The silver lining,” his wife said, “is that we’re still alive. So many people are suffering. We’re just among them.”
This article was originally published on NBCNews.com