Following the devastation caused by Hurricane Helene, many lives were tragically lost, including those of a young boy and his grandparents. The child’s aunt shared the heartbreaking details in an emotional online post.
According to a recent CBS News report, Hurricane Helene has claimed at least 135 lives, with the Carolinas bearing the brunt of the storm’s destruction. Officials have confirmed that over 80 people were found dead in those states.
One of the most devastating stories reported involved a mother, her son, and her parents, who became stranded on the roof of a house in Ashville, North Carolina. As the floodwaters rose, Megan Drye watched in horror as her 7-year-old son, Micah, and her parents were swept away after the house collapsed.
Though Megan was rescued, her son and parents were not as fortunate. Her sister, Jessica Drye Turner, took to Facebook to share the pain the family is experiencing.
In her post, dated September 30, Jessica opened up about the emotional struggle she faces in accepting the loss of both her parents and her nephew.
She shared, “I feel a strange sense of peace, knowing we will see them again one day. Nothing could bring them back after being with Jesus.”
Jessica went on to reflect on the peace she believes her parents now feel, free from the fear and panic of their final moments. However, she acknowledged the immense burden Megan carries. “It breaks my heart that Megan has to live with these memories, but they are no longer suffering […] It’s going to be a long and difficult journey for Megan,” Jessica wrote.
She also mentioned the challenges that lie ahead for her and their other sister, Heather Kephart. Turning her attention to her nephew, Jessica revealed, “Micah’s body was found about a quarter of a mile from where Megan was rescued […] He was such a beautiful little boy, and he always dreamed of being a superhero. Now, he is.”
Jessica then shared the heartbreaking detail of Micah’s last words, “Before he was swept away, he cried out, ‘Jesus! Please help me!’” She ended her post with a message of faith and strength, “I still call on His name, through this new grief. Strong faith. That’s my new motto.”
In addition to sharing her thoughts on the grief experienced by herself, Megan, and Heather, Jessica also provided a detailed recount of the terrifying moments her sister, nephew, and parents endured during the height of the storm.
Jessica revealed that Megan, who had been swept away by the floodwaters and became stuck between two trailers, was left waiting for three agonizing hours before finally being rescued.
Like Jessica, Heather’s friend Amanda Sprouse Simpkins also took to Facebook to share the heartbreaking news.
In her post, Amanda pleaded with her followers, saying, “Please pray for Megan, Jessica Drye Turner, Heather, and their entire family. The loss Megan has suffered is beyond words. She has lost everything. If you feel compelled to help, please donate. If you can’t, please keep them in your prayers.”
Amanda’s request for donations refers to the GoFundMe page that Heather set up for her sister.
“For Megan Drye, our miracle, who has faced a mother’s worst nightmare. She has survived the unimaginable but lost everything. The support of others will help her keep going, one breath, one step, and one day at a time,” reads part of the GoFundMe page’s description.
Adding to the heartbreak, Heather chose to use the last photo Micah’s grandmother had taken of him for the GoFundMe page. In the image, Micah is wearing a Jurassic World T-shirt, smiling brightly, while his grandmother is reflected in the door as she takes the picture.
Our deepest condolences go out to Micah’s mother, aunts, and the rest of the family as they grieve such a tragic loss.
Hurricane Helene’s aftermath continues to wreak havoc across several states, despite efforts to mitigate the storm’s impact. One such measure involved the closure of 15 schools across Georgia, as reported on September 26.
As Florida’s capital prepared for the impact of a powerful hurricane, one the region hadn’t seen in over a century, residents were strongly advised to brace themselves for the worst.
According to the BBC, Hurricane Helene, initially classified as a category 1 storm, was expected to escalate quickly into a category 4 by the time it made landfall in Florida. The official forecasts described the potential consequences as “catastrophic,” “life-threatening,” and “unimaginable.”
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
I always knew my stepmom, Monica, wasn’t exactly the nicest person—annoying, yes, but not evil. She was the type who would talk over me, forget my birthday, and call me “kiddo” even though I was practically an adult.
But what she did on my 17th birthday? It was the final straw.
It all started after my mom, Sarah, passed away when I was ten. After that, it was just me and Dad. We were a team—movie nights, pizza dinners, and a mutual understanding that we had each other’s backs, always.
Then Monica came along about three years ago. She wasn’t the worst, just kind of… there. She moved in, slowly took over the bathroom with her endless beauty products, and managed to inch her way into Dad’s life, whether I liked it or not.
Monica had dreams—big dreams—of opening a hair salon. I didn’t have a problem with people having dreams, but I had my own, too, and she treated me like I was an inconvenience that came with the house.
But I had a plan. College was my way out, and Dad had promised me from the time I was little that there was a college fund waiting for me. “Your mom and I set it up when you were five, Lila,” he’d say. “It’s all there, and I add to it every year.”
So, I worked hard in school, counting down the days until I could leave for college and start a life of my own.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some pancakes, a card—Dad was at work, so it was just Monica and me. But when Monica handed me a gift bag, things took a weird turn.
Inside the bag was a pink funerary urn. Yes, you read that right. An urn.
I stared at it, completely confused. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, a smug look on her face. “It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?” I asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Monica smiled wider. “It’s time to bury your college dreams, kiddo. Your dad and I decided to put that fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I repeated, my heart racing.
“Yep. We used it to help me open my salon. College is a gamble, Lila. But a business? That’s a real investment.”
I was frozen. Had they really taken my future, my college fund, and sunk it into Monica’s dream? How could my dad have let this happen?
“Life’s full of disappointments,” she added, as if that was supposed to be comforting.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door, sobbing harder than I ever had. Everything I’d worked for, everything my mom had wanted for me, was gone.
For the next few days, I barely spoke to either of them. Monica pranced around like she owned the house while I sat with the urn on my desk, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk in Monica’s messy handwriting: Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me.
I almost laughed. Trust her? After what she did?
But my curiosity got the better of me, and against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived at the salon, the lights were off, but the door was unlocked. Hesitant, I stepped inside. There, in the middle of the room, were Monica and my dad, both grinning.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted.
I was speechless.
“Look,” Monica said, stepping aside to reveal a shiny new sign on the wall: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah.
“What is this?” I asked, completely lost.
Monica’s smile softened. “We didn’t use your college fund, Lila. It’s all still there. The salon isn’t just for me—it’s for you, too. And for others like you. A portion of the profits will go toward funding scholarships in your mom’s name.”
I blinked, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
“But… why make me think otherwise?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Monica winced. “Yeah, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it would be motivational, like burying the past and embracing the future. Turns out, it was just creepy.”
Dad stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been planning this for months. Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This way, her dream lives on.”
I stood there, stunned, my anger melting into something softer.
Monica looked at me earnestly. “I’m not trying to replace your mom, Lila. I just want to build something meaningful, something that helps you and others. I know I haven’t been the best stepmom, but I hope this can be a fresh start.”
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, and maybe things with Monica never would be. But in that moment, standing in a salon named for my mom, I realized she wasn’t trying to destroy my future—she was trying to honor it in a way I hadn’t expected.
And yeah, I kept the urn. I planted peace lilies in it. Maybe it wasn’t the symbol Monica had intended, but it had become something new. A symbol of hope.
What would you have done in my shoes?
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