Kelly Meyers' home burned down when the Eaton Fire broke out last week. The same goes for the North Lake Avenue pet store she bought from her uncle more than two decades ago.

The twin losses of her house and Steve's pets left her mourning the polar opposites of the community she'd spent her entire life.

"Here's the thing: There's no one there," Meyers, 56, said. "If my pet store survives, I can't stay open because no one lives there. People are gone."

The Eaton Fire has destroyed more than 14,000 acres. Entire neighborhoods of Altadena were leveled. While the number of destroyed buildings continues to climb into the thousands, the total damage remains unknown.

More than 42,000 people live in this unincorporated town above Pasadena. Unlike other areas of Los Angeles County, where it is not uncommon for residents to commute miles between their homes and jobs, many Atadnanites live and work in the pristine foothill community.

The fires have left many residents facing the question of how to rebuild after their homes, incomes and communities were destroyed.

Janet Lee's parents' house was destroyed in a fire. Nearby, the street where their beloved restaurant had been serving the community since the 1980s caught fire. When neighborhood institutions collapsed, Fair Oaks Burger—the Lees’ “American dream” since they immigrated from Korea—somehow survived.

This is one of the only surviving restaurants in the area.

But by Lee's count, 80 percent of the restaurant's customers lost their homes in the Altadena fire. It's even claimed the lives of long-time regulars.

If restaurants can reopen, she wonders who will come back to keep the business going.

"How do you rebuild when your entire community is torn apart?" said Lee, 52, who started working at the restaurant as a teenager.

"I really want people to stay."

Altadena Hardware has been a staple in the community for more than 80 years and has been owned by the Orlandini family for the past 15 years. Neither of the homes of my parents and brother, who now co-own the space, suffered from the fire. But their store is gone — a loss that affects employees, too.

Rob Orlandini, 38, said the store's future is clear - they will rebuild. How and when remains uncertain.

"This is my livelihood and it's my brother's livelihood," he said. "It's crazy that you put every part of yourself into your career and then it's gone one morning."

Several of the businesses and schools that burned were owned or employed by locals whose homes were also destroyed. residents who run landscaping and day care businesses; the owners of the long-running Rancho Dive Bar; and the staff at Venetian Pizzeria, where loyal customers are regulars.

Start a fundraiser to ask for help. But a week after the fire, many with deep ties to the community were at a standstill, exacerbated by the inability to return to the scene to survey the damage and chart next steps.

Angel Bonca, 45, called it a "dream" to move to Altadena, where she and her husband have raised their daughter since 2018. Bangka's morning routine in this hillside community includes walking to her daughter's elementary school, where she also works.

She said her house on Raymond Avenue is an unofficial annex to the historic Pasadena Waldorf School community. The door to her home was always open to receive guests.

Now, both places are gone.

"My daughter lost her school, she lost her home," Bonca said, adding that the damage was "so widespread and yet so close to home."

Bonca said she and her retired husband filed an insurance claim on the house and the school is evaluating how to stay open without a K-8 campus, where at least a dozen staff members lost their homes. Thanks to the timely efforts of teachers and family members, the high school and preschool campus not far away survived.

Currently, the family is staying at an extended stay hotel, unsure of what will happen next.

Tiffany Hockenhull, 38, fled the home in Altadena that belonged to her grandparents in the 1960s. Hours earlier, as the fire spread, her brother had evacuated to the house on Calexita Avenue — which seemed safer than where he lived further east. The fire then spread westward, raining down "embers the size of basketballs" on her street, destroying nearly every home — including hers.

"I've never had to run for my life like this," she said in disbelief. "This is something I would never wish on my worst enemy."

Three weeks after her mother died, she lost her home.

Nearby, the elementary school where she worked as a leadership coach also burned down. Schools have closed and she has no income. She doesn’t know when, or if, she will be able to return to the Eliot Arts Magnet Academy, which was severely damaged by the fire. For now, she's taking her time to process things and hope her community can recover.

"As this healing process begins and ends, the rebuilding begins," she said. "You know, we might even be able to rebuild at the same time as we're recovering."

Bruce Steele loves his bees. They have distinct personalities, he said, much like people do with beloved pets. The 40-year-old beekeeper has been caring for them for decades, talking to them as he works.

Last week, fire destroyed 185 of his hives in the Altadena area, including those at his home. The modest ranch house is nestled in the middle of an oak forest, where he and his wife have lived for more than 25 years, serving bees as pollinators and making honey.

Steele, 75, is heartbroken over the loss of his comfort and beekeeping business. He's in the early stages of evaluating how to restructure, but he can't imagine life without bees - his life's passion has been his main source of income for years.

"At this point, I decided to keep going. I really couldn't imagine myself not doing it," he said.

“It’s a mountain to climb.”