Between hallucinations, Ron Mass will spend Christmas with his family for the first time in 10 years.
Mass was critically burned in the Nov. 3 Topanga Canyon fire that killed his friend, British movie director Duncan Gibbins.His family, with whom he had a falling-out a decade ago, rushed to his hospital bedside.
His family put up an artificial Christmas tree in his room, which they say helps ease the hallucinations caused by intense pain and medication.
"With the lights on he really enjoyed it," said his sister, Pat Anderson. "It really made it feel homey, with the family there. It was a special moment for us."
Christmas also finds other victims of the fall firestorms fighting to reclaim their lives, to find new permanent homes and replace belongings.
Four people died as a result of the fires that swept across Southern California, injuring hundreds, destroying 1,241 homes and other structures, and causing an estimated $1 billion in damage.
Mass, 40, is undergoing excruciating skin grafts and dressing changes, whirlpool therapy and hyperbaric oxygen treatments at a Sherman Oaks hospital.
In one of his hallucinations, he relives the fire, making a running motion with his legs and saying "It's hot, it's hot, it's hot," Anderson said.
"We had to tell him, `It's OK, you're safe, you're in a hospital, you're here.' We have to keep him in touch," she said.
Christmas brings a mixed blessing: the joy of a family reunion and a sharing of Mass' pain.
"We'll do our own little Christmas right there in his room, bring some food," Anderson said.
"I had asked him what he'd like for Christmas and he looked at me like, `Oh, please, there's nothing to give me right now but a new body.' "
Ronald Ratliff, 37, has slept on a mattress on the floor of his father's house in Sierra Madre since the Pasadena Glen cabin he grew up in was destroyed on Oct. 27.
His 10-year-old son, Justin, sleeps in a bunk next to him.
Christmas used to be a special time in Pasadena Glen, a quiet canyon neighborhood at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains where everyone was on a first-name basis, Ratliff recalled.
Neighbors strung up holiday lights on their homes amid 200-year-old oaks near an always running creek.
On Christmas Day, the aroma of baked ham and homemade sugary raisin sauce filled Ratliff's cozy 1918 cabin as relatives arrived for the traditional holiday dinner.
Fire destroyed almost everything but the oaks in Pasadena Glen, Ratliff said.
"The memories are still there, and it's the memories that matter," he said during a visit to a Salvation Army social worker. "The river's still going, and it's still quiet."
This year, the baked ham and raisin sauce will be served at his father's house.
"It's fine there," Ratliff said. "But it's not the house."
Ratliff, a builder, hasn't worked since the fire. He's been too busy coping with his uninsured fire loss and with unrelated intestinal surgery.
But he hopes to rebuild his cabin.