After witnessing the devastation Hurricane Helen wreaked in Asheville, North Carolina, Shirley Rotolo, 55, suffered a suspected heart attack at her home just north of the city, where power and water were still cut off. He died suddenly.
In the early morning hours of September 28, Rotolo died in the arms of his son Ulisse, after his family was unable to call for emergency medical services because their cellphones were out. The day before, while trying to find groceries, she witnessed the destruction the storm had left in her hometown. His daughter, Nausicaa, described the past 10 days as a “nightmare” and “absolute hell” as she tried to plan the funeral in an Airbnb in Raleigh.
“My mother loved Asheville. She always said this was where she had the most friends. She loved working there. She was happy there, and it was the only place for her. I think I was overwhelmed,โ Nausicaa said. “I strongly believe that if this hurricane hadn’t happened, my mom would still be here.”
The Rotolo family is one of many families grieving the loss of loved ones, homes, businesses and the Appalachian landscape that was sacred to state residents and forever changed by the hurricane.
The cost to repair damage caused by Helen, which became the first Category 4 hurricane to hit Florida on September 26, is estimated to exceed $30 billion. On Saturday, Helen’s death toll rose to 228, according to a USA TODAY Network analysis.
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“I feel so guilty.”
Shirley and Nausicaa worked together at the Odyssey School in Asheville. Nausicaa taught art and Shirley taught kindergarten. Nausicaa, a children’s book author and mother of “Absolutely Everyone,” said the school community was also mourning her mother, whom many called the best teacher ever.
“It’s really overwhelming. I really don’t know what will happen to my family when this pressure really starts,” Nausicaa said. “Many parents have contacted us saying they don’t know what they would do without her.”
Nausicaa’s friend Mariana Restrepo has been thinking about Rotolo ever since she heard the news.
“I feel so guilty,” Restrepo said. “I feel terrible about what happened. It was on my mind all the time.”
Restrepo and her boyfriend, Christian Carreno, are thankful their apartment was relatively unscathed by the storm. They left Asheville a few days after the hurricane and stayed with extended families in other parts of the state whose homes had running water and gas.
“Feeling survivor’s guilt is normal,” said Kelly Crosby, director of the state Department of Health and Human Services’ Division of Mental Health. “People need to remember that they did not cause this crisis. The fact that they feel guilty means that they are empathetic and caring human beings. That’s a great thing and a strength, and you can use that to help and volunteer.”
Crosby encouraged residents suffering from the mental and emotional toll of the hurricane to use the state’s 24/7 disaster helpline and suicide hotline. She added that the state is providing mental health counselors to first responders and caregivers.
โEveryone in North Carolina knows someone who has been affected,โ said Rebecca Finegroth, a certified grief support specialist in Durham. “I’m fine, but the storm just moved a little bit further west and they were devastated. So I and a lot of people who live in other parts of the state are like, ‘Wow. So I’m just sitting here. Why not us? I would call it sadness. โ
And that grief may last a long time.
“We tend not to think about the long-term emotions that occur when we lose possessions, such as sadness,” said Marian Fisher, a psychology professor at St. Mary’s University in Canada. “Years from now, however, when a conversation with a grandchild brings up a relative from the past, someone may no longer be able to show the photo and the grief may recur.”
David Kessler, founder of Grief.com, knows this all too well, both as a grief expert and as a person. He lost his home to Hurricane Camille decades ago when he was a child.
“For me now, when I hear them talking about the storm surge, I understand how deadly it was,” he said. “Losing a home is a huge trauma and filled with sadness. I don’t think anyone fully understands what it’s like to have your home destroyed, even when you see the pictures on the news.” .That’s why I don’t have any childhood photos.
For more on grief, she lost 100 pounds and gained it back. The sadness surprised her. Now, like everyone else, she is sharing her story.
“There’s no place like home”
Jessica Lynn Ruffman, 33, is an independent contractor who lives in Elkin and does work in Boone, Banner Elk and everywhere in between.
She knows the mountain and its inhabitants very well. A week after Helen’s visit to North Carolina, she was checking in with past clients, guiding people down the mountain, and thinking about what happened to all-glass houses overlooking the landscape during a landslide.
While driving around in her truck, she noticed a stream she hadn’t noticed before because it was flooded, and said there were so many fallen trees that the mountain smelled like “Christmas” and “mud.”
Rahman said he felt like something bad had happened to his family after the hurricane hit the mountain. Land is important to her family. When she, her mother and grandmother die, she wants her ashes to be scattered on the Wildcat Rock Trail.
Restrepo, about 240 miles away, feels a similar connection to Asheville. She described the mountains as “otherworldly” and said people move there to cure their illnesses because they are healing places.
“There’s no place like Asheville. There’s no place like home,” said Restrepo, who still dreams of one day buying a home in the city. “Now I’m even more attached to it.”
They came to Asheville seeking healing. Now all they see is destruction.
Feingross emphasized that many people moved to Asheville, in the western part of the state, because they thought they would be protected from the effects of climate change. He said the grief over climate change is real and residents of the state are also grieving their sense of safety.
This is a unique kind of grief, but one worth unpacking. Gina Moffa, a licensed clinical social worker and author of “Moving On Doesn’t Mean Letting Go,” says, “When you experience a loss of this magnitude, you ignore the grief that will inevitably follow.” I can’t do that,” he said. “We have to grieve. We have to recognize the loss, the collateral loss, and the ripple effects that will continue to be felt over time.”
“Grieve yourself by consciously thinking through your emotional experience,” adds Kevin Chapman, founder and director of the Kentucky Center for Anxiety and Related Disorders.
Feingros recalled memories of spending time in the mountains with his parents, calling the terrain “an anchor for us as North Carolina.”
“Asheville, the mountains, East Tennessee, Georgia, all these places that were physically damaged will be rebuilt. But we haven’t forgotten what happened,” Feingross said. said. โThe hole will never be completely filled and we will act as if it never happened. We will be able to hold on to both. We will be able to move forward. We will rebuild. I pay tribute to the grief and pain that has occurred and continues.”