I truly believe that unless you've lived it, you don't know. You can't.

Your feelings of loss are relatable. I still remember returning to my little forested hideaway home and seeing nothing but ashes. Gutted. Loss. Shock. A desperate depression.

I remember finding two frayed sticks, all that remained of my hard-earned, custom-made, prize passion fly rod. Frayed, fragile black strings of carbon. Gutted. Loss. Angry, desperate depression.

My rife, nothing but the barrel and the skeleton of a scope.

The clothes, books, gear, etc etc, I didn't think about much. But a few things..they were key to what made me..me. How do you get that back?

And the nightmares of the flames reaching over my head, screaming, howling flames. Loss, terror, fear.

Hell is a horrific place and it only takes a glimpse to feel it.