The Ghosts of Camp Mystic

 

 

 

The recent events in Hunt, especially at Camp Mystic have affected me deeply. As the weeks drag on, and the bodies become harder and harder to find the grim realities of a flash flood become oh so clear.

Nobody should have had to endure that, and especially little ladies at summer camp. Can you imagine the water rushing in where just a few hours before they were screaming, laughing, and playing? At three in the morning the screams became louder. And then they were gone.

I started cross posting the missing. Then the found. Then the funerals. Now those that couldn’t be found. But God knows where they are. Fine little girls. Texas’ best. Future doctors, lawyers and mothers. Political activists fighting for women’s rights. And maybe end up being a grandmother looking after the next generation.

But this won’t happen. When grandchildren are born, they will be told stories about the Great Flood of 2025. And they will imagine the girls at Camp Mystic looking like other grandmas or older women they see. They won’t understand that the ones gone so long ago looked just like them. Forever young. Belong to the ages. Forever at Camp Mystic.

Psychologists say you must work your way through grief. You must find understanding. Get over it. This is something I fear I will never “get over.” This is a game changer. If you are even partially human you can’t look into those little faces and not have some serious thoughts.

I, myself will make the best movies I know how. I will put all my strength and knowledge into my work to try to impart something to those left behind. And I will never forget. I will never let them go.