“Do not fear… I have [called] you by name; you are Mine” (Isaiah 43:1b).

“The man in the green Jeep? He has a name, you know. And he’s… he’s my son.”

This was what Joyce Sheldon told Haywood County’s The Mountaineer after reading a newspaper article about the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. Most particularly…

About the first unnamed fatality.

From the early hours of Friday, October 27th until the next evening, Joyce’s family didn’t know where he was, but sometime on Saturday, September 28th, a body was discovered near Jonathan Creek. Face-down beside a submerged vehicle in the swollen waters near Somer’s Dream RV Park, the resident of Lot #9 had drowned.

“We’d been frantically looking for him, but all we were told by neighbors was that they’d witnessed him trying to escape when the waters came rushing.” The victim’s older sister, Renee Gidcumb, is a long-time White Oak resident and kindergarten teacher at Haywood County’s Riverbend Elementary School.

“It was awful—the waiting and wondering.”

But their waiting came to an end when a Haywood County sheriff’s deputy, Dustin Toon, knocked on the door.

“He came all the way out to White Oak to deliver the news. At first, we thought they’d found him alive, but when he took my hand, I knew.” And then, Joyce spoke her son’s name.

“David, my boy, was gone.”

Indeed, David Eric Russell did drive a green Jeep, but he wasn’t merely Haywood County’s first known Helene fatality. In fact, while some might call it irony, it’s more. As his mother and sister agree, it was a divine intervention.

“Even before I’d received the news,” Joyce recalled, “my mother came to me in a dream. ‘I have him, and he’s fine.’ It’s as if she was preparing me, and now, this premonition brings peace.”

Born on March 23, 1968 in Buffalo, New York, David was second to the youngest of seven children and the only boy. As a kid, he loved playing hockey with his sister Denise on a backyard rink. The two darted about, hitting pucks, while their other sisters practiced figure-skating.

“I’ll never forget a particular school picture. He’s wearing his cherished Buffalo Sabres jersey, hair slicked back with a smile. Across his right cheek? A black a blue hockey bruise, which he also wore with pride. Remember, Renee?”

David’s older sister chuckled. “Yes, and I also remember how he hated the smell of fingernail polish remover. But can you blame him?”

Known for his kindness, for his desire to help anyone in need, David loved people and dogs—especially pugs like his own rescue, Z-Man, who survived Helene and has been adopted.

“And he loved cooking,” Renee shared. “In fact, after they found him, I was able to retrieve some of David’s things from his camper, like his favorite New Orleans Saints jersey. Though the kitchen was nearly destroyed, there they were, still on the counter—a plate of homemade biscuits.” Swiping a tear, she added, “The morning of the flood, we kept texting—asking if he planned on evacuating. He told us he didn’t, that others around him said it wouldn’t be necessary.”

Until it was. Still, despite deep heartache…

Therein lies the miracle.

“The day after learning of his passing, I got up in the middle of the night and sat on the porch weeping. He was my son, my boy. But then, I heard David say, ‘Mom, please don’t cry. I’m okay. I’m happy.’ And though I’ll miss him until heaven, I know without doubt he is okay, because now…

“He’s whole.”

Prior to his move to Waynesville in August, David lived in Asheville. But he’d grown increasingly ill, suffering with Type 1 diabetes and a diseased pancreas. Unable to work, the family encouraged him to move closer.

“He was so sick and frail. We worked hard to get him his home at Somer’s Dream, and for the last two months, he loved learning about taking care of his camper.” Joyce laughed, “He even called himself an RV rookie, but there were neighbors who enjoyed teaching him, and he was learning about his new life.”

“And he loved the water,” Renee added, then paused. “Mom, share what you’ve written regarding that.”

A writer who enjoys poetry and journaling, Joyce smiled. “He’d grown increasingly bitter about his illness. It kind of became him, you know? He’d lost his identity, forgetting who he was. But then he moved to Somer’s Dream, and things got better. I’d venture to say, he was living his best life on Jonathan Creek.”

“He could hear the water, watch the water. It was all around him,” Renee added. “These last two months were the happiest we’ve seen him in a long time.”

“It’s true. The very creek that took David’s life saved him.” Joyce nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Strange as it seems, the water he loved so much rescued my boy, and now—yes, now—

“David’s truly Home.”

Father, please comfort David’s family in this time of loss. Surround them with Your loving peace and presence. Fill them with unspeakable joy despite this season of mourning, and remind them often that You hold their loved one in the palm of Your hand. Amen.

In memory of David Russell and his compassionate care and love for rescue dogs, I would like to offer a giveaway.

Michelle Rayburn and friends’ new compilation Whiskers, Wags, and Woofs–Poems and Heartfelt Essays For Dog and Cat Lovers is a delightful book, and I’m honored to have two chapters included.

Please leave a comment here by next Wednesday, Oct. 30th–perhaps sharing a sweet story about a dog or cat in your life or offering a prayer for peace for this hurting family.

I’ll draw a name from those who participate.

 

***Renee Gidcumb has been a dear friend of mine for more than twenty years. She taught our now 26-year-old son Ian and our 15-year-old daughter Allie at Riverbend Elementary. Her mother, Joyce Marie Sheldon, currently resides with Renee in White Oak and has published five books, including Little Kind Heart—For Those Grieving the Loss of a Child and From Fear to Faith–A Caregiver’s Journey***