What began as a peaceful evening for the Taylor family quickly turned into an unimaginable tragedy. Kisses were exchanged before bedtime, with no one realizing that by the next morning, their lives would be shattered by devastating news.
Among the more than two dozen victims of the catastrophic storm in Georgia were a brother and sister, Derrick and Harmony. Their untimely deaths have left the entire community mourning, as families try to cope with the overwhelming grief of losing loved ones.
On the evening of September 26, 2024, Crystal Taylor, 34, spent time with her eldest daughter, Cassidy, 11, as they snuggled up on the couch watching “Beat Bobby Flay.” As they drifted off to sleep, Crystal kept one eye on the weather, monitoring the approaching Hurricane Helene. In the bedroom, her husband, Herbert Taylor, 39, was asleep with their two younger children, Harmony, 7, and Derrick, 4.
Though they knew Hurricane Helene was heading toward eastern Middle Georgia, the family wasn’t sure how much it would affect them inland. But as midnight came and went, the storm’s fury descended on the area, sweeping through the countryside and moving relentlessly across rivers toward Sandersville, a small town right in its path.
Around 4:00 a.m., Crystal received a call from her mother, checking if the house was still safe. Crystal reassured her that everything was fine, though the winds had picked up and a giant oak tree loomed over the backyard. Herbert, waking up, saw the wind lift the cover off his truck and moved toward the children’s bedroom to check on them.
Before he could reach them, disaster struck. The massive oak tree crashed onto the bed where Harmony and Derrick were sleeping, collapsing the house in a split second. Herbert shouted in panic, “My babies,” as the impact triggered an electrical fire. Crystal and Cassidy rushed to safety at a neighbor’s house, while Cassidy tearfully called 911.
Cassidy remained brave as she explained, “A tree fell on our house. My little brother and sister are trapped inside, and the house is on fire.” Emergency crews arrived to find the home engulfed and the oak tree blocking access to the children. Despite their best efforts, it took over five hours to cut through the tree, and by then, it was too late.
Crystal, in her heartbreak, clung to hope as she waited, imagining her children emerging safely. She could see Derrick asking for his favorite cookies and crackers, and Harmony asking for her favorite boiled potatoes made by her grandfather. But tragically, the children were gone.
The Taylor family, now grieving the loss of Derrick and Harmony, has expressed their gratitude for the outpouring of love and support. Herbert shared on social media how much the prayers and kind words have meant to them, while Crystal echoed his sentiments, thanking everyone for their care during this difficult time.
The Taylors have also been receiving generous financial support through Herbert’s Cash App, $Rick4715, as well as via a GoFundMe campaign organized by Brittany Price and Jenna Barefield on behalf of the family. So far, the GoFundMe has raised over $45,000 out of its $50,000 goal.
The page reads, “We kindly ask for your support to help the family during this devastating time, covering funeral expenses, securing a new home, and managing daily costs. Their eldest daughter also remains in their care.”
With more than 750 contributions, the Taylors are incredibly grateful for the flood of financial help, prayers, and thoughtful gestures from their community.
The Taylors, along with other affected families, are working to rebuild their lives after such a heartbreaking loss. As previously reported, Hurricane Helene has left a tragic trail of destruction, taking the lives of many, including a young boy and his grandparents. The boy’s aunt shared the heartbreaking details of their story in a lengthy post online.
According to CBS News, Hurricane Helene has claimed at least 135 lives so far. Among the hardest-hit states, North Carolina has suffered the most, with over 80 reported deaths, according to officials.
One particularly heart-wrenching account shared by the news outlet involved a mother, her young son, and her parents who were stranded on a rooftop in Ashville, North Carolina. As the floodwaters rose and their house collapsed, Megan Drye tragically watched her 7-year-old son, Micah, and her parents get swept away. While Megan was rescued, Micah and his grandparents were not as fortunate.
Megan’s sister, Jessica Drye Turner, took to Facebook to share updates about the tragedy. In her post, dated September 30, Jessica expressed the emotional toll the loss has taken on her and her family, as they come to terms with the heartbreaking reality.
“I feel a sense of peace knowing we will see them again one day,” Jessica wrote, sharing her faith in the belief that her loved ones are now with Jesus. She reflected on how the fear and desperation they experienced during their final moments have now been replaced with peace in the afterlife.
Jessica also acknowledged the immense grief her sister Megan faces, having witnessed the tragic events firsthand. “It breaks my heart that Megan will have to live with those memories, but they are no longer suffering,” she shared, adding that Megan has a long road ahead to heal from the trauma.
In a particularly poignant moment, Jessica revealed that Micah’s body had been found about a quarter of a mile from where Megan was rescued. “He was such a perfect little boy,” Jessica wrote, “He always wanted to be a superhero, and now he is.”
Jessica also shared that Micah’s final words were a plea to heaven: “Jesus! Please help me!” She concluded the post by stating that despite the grief, her faith remains strong, adopting a new motto: “New grief and strong faith.”
Jessica’s post also recounted the terrifying experience Megan endured while waiting to be rescued. Swept away by the flood, Megan found herself wedged between two trailers, where she remained for three agonizing hours before help finally arrived.
Much like Jessica, Heather’s friend, Amanda Sprouse Simpkins, also took to Facebook to share the heartbreaking news.
In her post, Amanda urged, “Please lift up Megan, Jessica Drye Turner, Heather, and their family in your prayers. Megan has suffered an unimaginable loss and is left with nothing. If you feel called to help, please consider giving. If not, your prayers are more than enough.”
Amanda’s plea referred to the GoFundMe page that Heather set up to support her sister during this difficult time.
“For Megan Drye, our miracle, who has endured every mother’s worst fear. She survived the unthinkable but has lost everything. The kindness and generosity of others will be what sustains her, helping her take one breath, one step, and one day at a time,” reads part of the GoFundMe description.
Adding another layer of heartbreak to this tragedy is that Heather chose the last photo Micah’s grandmother ever took of him for the page. The picture shows Micah, wearing a Jurassic World T-shirt, smiling happily while his grandmother is seen in the reflection of the door, capturing the moment.
Even as Hurricane Helene’s fury subsides, its aftermath continues to leave devastation across several states. Despite efforts to minimize the damage, the storm’s impact has been overwhelming.
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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