In the aftermath of Hurricane Helene: A 7-year-old boy’s tragic fate and his final words

Hurricane Helene, the deadliest mainland storm since Katrina in 2005, has claimed the lives of 200 people as rescuers continue their search for survivors. The deaths have been reported in South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, North Carolina, Virginia and Tennessee.

The number of people missing is counted in hundreds, and the number of homes left without electricity is nearly a million. Unfortunately, rescue teams face challenges as many roads rendered impassable by the storm’s destruction.

North Carolina Governor Roy Cooper highlighted the severity of the situation, saying that the rugged landscape has made it difficult for many communities to receive any assistance.

Among those who lost their lives is 7-year-old Micah Drye of Asheville, North Carolina. He and his grandparents were swept away by floodwaters after seeking refuge on a rooftop. The boy’s mother, Meghan, survived.

The news of Micah’s death was disclosed by his aunt, Jessica Drye Turner, who also shared the boy’s final words, “Jesus! Please help me!”

The heartbroken aunt expressed her grief and pain over the loss of her sister’s son. “New grief and strong faith. New motto.”

The boy’s lifeless body was located about a quarter mile from where his mother had been rescued.

Meghan’s other sister, Heather Kephart, started a GoFundMe page to help Meghan after the devastating loss of her son, her parents, and all her belongings, including her home.

The fundraising page included a photo of sweet Micah, taken by his grandmother mere days before the tragedy. He could be seen wearing a Jurassic World T-shirt and smiling.

This family’s huge loss is just one of many caused by the devastating storm.

I Incurred a $500 Fine When My Neighbor Falsely Accused My Son of Her Toddler’s Hallway Scribbles — I Couldn’t Let It Go

Caitlin often found herself informally supervising her neighbor Stacy’s young son, Nate, providing him some stability while his mom sought time for herself. However, when Nate decorated the hallway walls with doodles during Caitlin’s absence, she was unjustly slapped with a $500 fine. Determined to set things right, Caitlin devised a plan for retribution.

Stacy had become accustomed to letting her young son, Nate, roam the hallway as a play area.

“It’s safe, Caitlin,” she’d assure me. “Plus, it’s their version of outdoor play.”

She would then retreat behind her door, leaving Nate to his devices, often while she entertained guests.

“I just need some downtime,” she confessed to me once in the laundry room. “I’m a grown woman with needs, you know. Being a single mom, you must get it.”

I understood her need for personal space, but I could never imagine letting my own son, Jackson, wander the hallways alone. Despite our general familiarity with the neighbors, the corridors didn’t feel completely secure.

Jackson, slightly older than Nate, seemed concerned about the younger boy, who often loitered alone, clutching his tattered teddy bear.

“Mom,” Jackson would say during his playtime, “maybe we should invite him over.”

Grateful for my son’s compassion, I agreed. It was better to keep both children within sight, ensuring their safety.

Thus, we began having Nate over for snacks, toys, and movies—a simple arrangement that brought him noticeable joy.

“He mentioned he likes playing with others,” Jackson noted one day. “I don’t think his mom spends much time with him.”

And interestingly, Stacy hardly acknowledged this setup. Once she realized Nate was safe with us, she seemed to extend her leisure time even more.

Eventually, it became routine for Nate to knock on our door whenever his mother let him out.

“Hello,” he’d say, teddy in hand. “I’m here to play.”

However, one day, we were away at my parents’ house for my mom’s birthday.

“I hope Nate will be okay,” Jackson expressed concern as we drove.

“Oh, honey,” I responded. “His mom is there. She’s responsible for his safety too.”

Upon our return, we were greeted by hallway walls covered in childish drawings—a colorful chaos of stick figures and squiggles.

“Nate must have had fun,” I remarked, searching for my keys.

“Isn’t he going to be in trouble?” Jackson asked, eyeing the artwork.

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