The Polaroid felt heavy in James’ trembling hands. His heart raced as he flipped it over, eager for an explanation. On the back, written in Andrew’s unmistakable handwriting, were the words:
*”This is my son, Dad. His name is James.”*
James stared at the photo again, his eyes welling with tears. In it, a young boy with unruly dark hair and sparkling blue eyes stood in a park, clutching a soccer ball. He looked no older than six.
James’ heart ached as he traced the little boy’s face with his finger. *I have a grandson,* he thought, his chest tightening with emotion. But the joy was laced with sorrow. Andrew had kept this from him for years.
Flipping the photo back over, James noticed something else:
*”He asks about you. I don’t know what to say.”*
James sank into his armchair, the weight of the years pressing down on him. He remembered the fight with Andrew at his late wife’s funeral. Words had been exchanged in the heat of grief—words James deeply regretted. He had tried to apologize countless times, pouring his heart into every letter he’d sent over the years, but Andrew had never replied.
Now, here was this boy—his grandson—who didn’t even know his grandfather.
James wiped his tears and resolved to try one more time.
That evening, James sat at his desk and began to write.
*”Dear Andrew,
I cannot express how much seeing that photo meant to me. Thank you for letting me meet James, even in this small way. I know I’ve hurt you, and I know I’ve failed as a father in ways that I can’t undo. But I want to be better—for you and for him. Please let me.
With love, always,
Dad.”*
He folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. This time, he didn’t feel the familiar despair. For the first time in years, hope stirred in his heart.
Weeks passed, and James checked his mailbox every day with renewed anticipation. One afternoon, as the sun set, he found another envelope waiting for him.
Inside was a single sentence:
*”James wants to meet his grandfather. Are you ready?”*
James clutched the letter, tears streaming down his face. After all the years of silence, the door to reconciliation had finally cracked open. He knew this was his second chance—not just to mend his relationship with Andrew, but to be a part of young James’ life.
And this time, he wouldn’t waste it.
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.
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