A girl's death in Texas floods is her family's third loss this year. 3 mementos she left help her mom cope
HurricanesFacebookTweetLink
Follow
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 only 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.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
CNN
a day ago
- CNN
How a Hurricane Katrina victim is helping the smallest survivors of the Texas floods
Most people don't expect Mimi Hymel to remember Hurricane Katrina. After all, she was only 3 when the Category 5 storm slammed into her Louisiana home in 2005. But nearly 20 years later, as Hymel watched news of the floodwaters inundating Texas Hill Country and saw the harrowing images of destruction from Camp Mystic, she said those memories came back with sharp clarity. She can still recall the moment her family decided they couldn't ride out Katrina and the sinking feeling she felt as her mom placed Hymel and her sister in their car and drove away, leaving their dad behind to work at a nearby hospital. But most of all, Hymel said, she remembers how she struggled to fall asleep for days after they escaped the storm because she didn't have her favorite stuffed animal. 'I just had no idea if my dad was OK or even coming home at all,' she recalled. 'I had a teddy bear named Cuddles that I didn't get to take in the car with me. In a scary time like that, I really wanted it for comfort.' Indeed, the importance of these plush companions was apparent as the floodwaters began seeping through the Chatterbox cabin at Camp Mystic, prompting a 9-year-old to offer her top bunk as a safe place for campers to store their stuffies during the storm. Hymel said the trauma of escaping a natural disaster has a way of changing you. But all these years later, she's found a way of channeling her experience during Katrina into helping today's youngest survivors. In the immediate aftermath of Katrina, Hymel said there was no shortage of local organizations and kind neighbors who tried to meet her family's immediate needs for food, clothes and shelter. But as a child, she said she struggled to process such dramatic and rapid change. 'When we finally did get back to our house, everything was destroyed,' she recalled. And Cuddles had been lost to the floodwaters. Studies have long shown blankets or stuffed animals can help children adapt to unfamiliar or distressing situations and they become even more important when a child is processing grief. Although the family ultimately resettled in Texas, as she grew older, Hymel said she noticed how some first responders or families would share photos of stuffed animals they recovered after a disaster. 'I was once that child so it's always just emotional seeing those photos,' she said. 'I realized that kids experience disasters a little bit differently, so relief needs to work a little differently for them too.' That realization sparked Hymel to mobilize after catastrophes, coordinating with local businesses to host donation drives for stuffies and then partnering with first responders and other organizations to help distribute the plush toys in the aftermath of a tragedy. After the success of her early donation efforts, Hymel founded Comfort Bears in a Catastrophe. The nonprofit not only provides kids with a new stuffed animal after a crisis, but they also connect families to mental health resources. Each stuffed animal is tagged with a card offering free crisis counseling through the national Disaster Distress Helpline, which offers children and their families help navigating traumatic events. As interest in her work grew, so did the need. From the Miami Surfside condo collapse to the destructive fires in Maui and Los Angeles and countless floods and tornadoes, these days the steady drumbeat of disasters has been relentless, Hymel said. And so far, the nonprofit has donated more than 50,000 stuffed animals to children in need, Hymel said. She has also written a series of children's books called 'Miss Prepared and Captain Ready.' 'It teaches them important skills to know if a disaster were to hit, but it also encourages kids to get involved in their own way,' she said. But nothing, Hymel added, can compare to the joy of seeing a child receive a new stuffed animal and finding a sense of comfort in the midst of a crisis. 'After Hurricane Ian, I was able to donate to the hospital I was actually born in,' Hymel said. 'That was just kind of full circle.' From her home in Houston earlier this month, Annie Gully and her daughter watched as reports of flooding in the Texas Hill Country grew more dire by the hour. A close friend, she later learned, lost her niece, 8-year-old Blakely McCrory, in the floodwaters at Camp Mystic. 'It's just unfathomable to even wrap your head around something like this happening,' she said. 'You kind of have to go through the sadness and then you're like, 'OK, what can we do to help.'' Gully, who owns Tree House Arts and Crafts, a local children's art studio, said over the years she's seen how a child's favorite stuffed animal can become like a family member. So, when her daughter suggested a donation drive for kids, she leaped at the idea. She reached out to Comfort Bears on social media and within hours they had a game plan. Gully's donation drive was covered on the local news and 'that day alone, I think we collected 600' stuffed animals, she said. After three days they received more than 1,100 donations to be distributed throughout the state. 'Children don't really have an outlet to help' after a crisis, Gully said. 'You could tell their parents had explained to them that other kids have lost their lovies and how sad would it be if you lost your(s).' Gully is also selling 'Mystic Strong' artwork, and the proceeds will be donated to charity in honor of McCrory and the other lives lost at Camp Mystic. 'I feel like every time you turn on the news, there's just something worse that you hear about,' Gully said. But, she added, watching her community come together to donate comfort to the smallest victims of the floods in Kerr County has given her a reason to hope. 'No one cares who you are, what you look like or who you voted for,' she said, 'We're all just doing things together to help.'
Washington Post
a day ago
- Washington Post
With scores still missing from Texas flood, a quest to ‘find every soul'
HUNT, Texas — From the north bank of the Guadalupe River, Rough Vine watched as a team of searchers in neon yellow shirts circled a mound of crushed trees near the water's edge. Suddenly his face turned grim. It was his 10th day volunteering with the massive effort to find bodies — and to provide solace to the families most devastated by Texas Hill Country's historic flooding on the Fourth of July. Often working solo, Vine had maneuvered his skid steer and flatbed trailer to clear tons of debris carried downstream by the raging waters. So far, the contractor had helped recover the remains of eight people.
Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
A girl's death in Texas floods is her family's third loss this year. 3 mementos she left help her mom cope
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. Finding her tribe 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.' 'I dropped the phone on the table, shaking' 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. Immense gratitude amid the grief For a widow who lost her husband, her only brother and her only 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.'
