A girl's death in Texas floods is her family's third loss this year. 3 mementos she left help her mom cope

CNN

5 days ago

The last time Lindsey McLeod McCrory saw her daughter Blakely alive, the young girl was heading to camp wearing a simple yet profound necklace – one that would later reconnect Blakely to her mother after she died.
It was a green-and-white beaded Camp Mystic necklace – a tribute to the legendary Christian girls' camp in the foothills of Texas' Hill Country where Blakely was going. It's the same camp her mother and other women in the family had attended and forged lifelong memories.
'I gave this necklace to my daughter right before camp, and I advised her that if she didn't want to lose it – because she's 8 years old, and of course, they lose jewelry – I told her to wear it … during the whole time at camp,' McCrory told CNN on Friday.
Blakely's new necklace served as a reminder of her mother's support at a time of immense loss. Blakely's father died from cancer in March. And just last month, she lost her uncle to illness.
But Camp Mystic was a haven where Blakely's grief gave way to joy.
'She was so excited, and it came at such a good time since she lost her daddy,' McCrory said. 'It was a way for her to just heal with that sisterhood and her faith and just all of the fun activities.'
Everything changed in the pre-dawn hours of July 4, when torrential rainfall and catastrophic flooding ripped through central Texas – claiming at least 135 lives, many near the Guadalupe River.
At Camp Mystic, the cabins with the youngest campers were closest to the river. Blakely, along with 26 other Camp Mystic girls and counselors, perished in the deluge – forcing her family to endure yet another unfathomable tragedy.
Despite the anguish, McCrory has found solace – thanks in part to letters that she received from Blakely after she died.
Even though Blakely was a new camper in a cabin full of strangers, she didn't seem nervous about going to camp. 'She loves the outdoors. She loves to fish, horseback ride,' her mother said.
In a letter to her mother, Blakely said camp was 'amazing.' She was looking forward to playing tennis, going horseback riding and trying other sports, she wrote.
The letter also said Blakely became a 'tonk' – something she had dreamed of.
Every new girl at Camp Mystic draws a slip that tells them which 'tribe' they belong to – the Tonkawa or the Kiowa tribe.
'The tribe traditions, which have been handed down since Mystic's beginning' in 1926, 'help to emphasize team spirit, fun competition and good sportsmanship' during games, Camp Mystic's website says.
'After each game, the losing tribe commends the winning tribe who, in turn, compliments the losing tribe. Campers from opposite tribes pair up after each game and go up to Chapel Hill to pray.'
Drawing a red slip meant the Tonkawa tribe. A blue slip signified the Kiowa tribe.
Blakely 'wanted to be a Tonk really badly,' her mom said. 'Her two cousins are both Tonks. … So she wanted to be a Tonk so she could compete with her cousins' tribe.'
The rituals instill 'sportsmanship and competition amongst the girls, which is so great for later on in life,' McCrory said.
After Blakely drew a red slip, 'she was just ecstatic,' her mother said.
In another letter, Blakely made an urgent request to her mother, who was getting ready to donate items because the family was preparing to move:
'PS. Please don't give my Barbie Dream house,' the 8-year-old scrawled on a colorful piece of paper.
McCrory didn't receive those letters until after Blakely died. But the scribbled request forced a smile onto the grieving mother's face.
'It's just funny how a little girl's mind works. And that's why I laughed when I got the letter, because I could just hear her writing her thoughts down,' McCrory said. 'And it was just funny. … It was so Blakely.'
After sending Blakely off to camp, McCrory joined her sister and two nieces on a trip to Europe. It was the first such outing since the deaths of McCrory's husband, Blake, and her brother, Chanse McLeod – both within the last five months.
When news trickled in overseas about some flooding at Camp Mystic, McCrory had no idea how bad it was.
'We were on a boat, and when we docked for lunch, we received some text messages' – including one reporting flooding at Camp Mystic.
'And so what popped in my mind – because we didn't have all of the full reports of the 30-foot surge – (was) that it was like the flood in 1987, when I was a camper.'
Back then, 'you had to stay in your cabin for safety,' she said. 'They didn't want people walking in the mud and sliding around since there are so many hills. And they would bring food to us. And so that was what I first imagined it was.'
McCrory then lost cell service and didn't receive a call from Camp Mystic. Eventually, she gained access to her voicemails and heard a horrid message: Blakely was missing.
'I just dropped the phone on the table, shaking,' she said. 'I was frozen when I heard that voicemail.'
McCrory soon jumped on a plane back to Houston. At the same time, Blakely's half-brother and his mother scoured an evacuation center in Ingram, hoping to find Blakely.
For two days, the family waited in anguish as crews trudged through thick mud and debris searching for victims and survivors.
Then, on July 7, McCrory received the dreaded news: Blakely's body had been found. She was still wearing the Camp Mystic necklace her mom had given her – a piece of jewelry that helped identify her.
For a widow who lost her husband, her only brother and her daughter in just five months, McCrory is remarkably composed. She exudes an aura of calmness and even optimism.
McCrory chalks it up to her faith, her family and her support network – all of which have ties to Camp Mystic.
'My faith is so strong. Actually, I was a camper at Camp Mystic, and I felt so close to my faith attending there as a camper,' she said. 'We had lovely devotionals on the waterfront where the Guadalupe River is, in the mornings, and then in the evenings, on Sundays, we went to Chapel Hill. And just the sisterhood, the faith – it just really brought me closer.'
McCrory said she has learned how to cope after each tragedy and takes comfort in knowing her lost loved ones are together again.
'We lost my husband in March, and then my brother in June. So I think that prepared me for Blakely's loss,' she said. 'I'm coping very well. I have amazing love and support from people I know (and) from people I don't know. The mothers of the campers that were lost were on a group text, and were able to share stories and thoughts – and even funny moments.'
As she prepared for Blakely's funeral Friday, McCrory wore the beaded necklace that she had given her daughter. 'My good friends from high school had it extended so that I could wear it, so I would have a touchstone close to my heart,' she said.
She's also thankful for Blakely – and the fact that her final days were spent doing what she loved.
'She had the best time at camp. She went out on a happy note,' her mother said.
And as the water started to rise, a counselor made a keen observation: 'Blakely was encouraging her cabinmates to not be afraid,' McCrory said.
'She was always a leader, encouraging others. So in my heart, I know it happened fast. And I'm just so grateful the life that she lived was so happy.'