Just days before tragedy struck, 8-year-old Blakely McCrory wrote a joyful letter home from camp, her words filled with excitement and love. Now, that letter has become a lifeline for her grieving mother, Lindsey, and a shattered community.
Still clutching her daughter’s heartfelt note, Lindsey McCrory faces an unbearable reality: Blakely was among the young lives lost when sudden flash floods swept through Camp Mystic in Texas. The letter, written just before the disaster, is now a final, precious glimpse into the light Blakely brought to those who loved her.
Blakely McCrory was among the vacationers who tragically lost their lives over the July 4th weekend when the Guadalupe River surged past its banks, flooding Camp Mystic in Texas. The deadly flash floods, triggered by violent storms, left behind a trail of heartbreak—and a few precious fragments of comfort.
In the aftermath of the disaster, search crews recovered some of Blakely’s belongings from the ruins of her flooded cottage. Among them was a handwritten letter—one that now means everything to her grieving family.
In the note, Blakely had written to her mother with pure, unfiltered joy, describing the fun she was having at camp. She talked about playing tennis, riding horses, and how happy she felt.
“Having the letter is actually very special,” her mother, Lindsey McCrory, told People Magazine. “Because I knew she was having the best time of her life.”
This summer marked Blakely’s very first time at Camp Mystic—a beloved Christian camp nestled in the heart of Texas Hill Country. But for her family, it was more than just a camp; it was a place woven into their history. Years earlier, Lindsey had spent her own childhood summers there, attending alongside her sisters, stepmother, and stepsisters. Sharing that cherished tradition with her daughter made the experience all the more meaningful—a full-circle moment now tinged with unimaginable grief.
According to People Magazine, Lindsey McCrory described her daughter as “ecstatic” to attend Camp Mystic, proudly calling her a “third-generation Mystic camper.” It was a legacy Blakely embraced with wide-eyed wonder.
“She could not wait to be in the outdoors,” Lindsey shared. “It was like having the biggest sleepover you can imagine as a little girl—because you’re in a cabin with 11 girls who become your best friends, right?”
For Blakely, the camp wasn’t just an adventure—it was a dream fulfilled. For her mother, those memories, captured in her daughter’s glowing words, are now both a comfort and a source of profound sorrow.
When Lindsey first heard it was raining at Camp Mystic, she didn’t worry. She was vacationing in Europe with her younger sister at the time and, having been a camper there herself in 1987, the news brought back nothing but warm memories.
“They’re probably having a blast,” she recalled thinking. “Because that’s what I remembered: a rainy day meant staying in your cabin, playing board games, listening to music—just simple fun. It’s going to pass.”
But several hours later, everything changed.
A phone call from a friend shattered that calm. Some of the campers were unaccounted for.
And just like that, a mother’s quiet confidence gave way to fear no parent should ever have to feel.
After that devastating call, Lindsey checked her voicemail—only to hear the words no mother should ever have to endure: Blakely was missing.
Panic set in. That night, Lindsey and her sister scrambled to book the first flight back to Texas. As they raced home, Blakely’s older half-brother, Brady, and his mother scoured local evacuation centers, desperately searching for any sign of the little girl.
But as the hours passed with no news, hope became harder to hold onto.
By Sunday, the silence was deafening. Still clinging to a fragile thread of belief, Lindsey tried to reason with the impossible.
“I thought, ‘Oh, maybe she and one of those counselors are somewhere dry, but they’re just lost… Maybe they’re just lost, and I don’t know, they’re surviving together somehow,’” the 50-year-old mother shared. “I mean, of course, you want to think these things.”
That Sunday, even as fear and heartbreak loomed, Lindsey found the strength to speak publicly. In a statement shared with the community, she expressed deep gratitude for the outpouring of love, prayers, and support during the agonizing search.
Though hope was hard to hold onto, she urged everyone to stay focused—on faith, on the heroic efforts of first responders, and on the possibility that Blakely and her campmates might still be found.
“We’re pouring every ounce of hope, prayer, and energy into the search,” she said. “And we’re asking you to do the same.”
On Monday evening, the heartbreaking news arrived: Blakely had passed away.
Though devastated beyond words, Lindsey found a bittersweet comfort in finally knowing what had happened to her beloved daughter.
“I guess I had mentally prepared myself for that phone call—that I might hear she was gone,” Lindsey shared quietly. “So when it came, I was calm. It gave me some closure. I knew she was in a safe place, with her daddy, in heaven. And somehow, I knew it was going to be okay.”
Blakely’s father, Blake McCrory, passed away earlier this year in March after a brief battle with cancer. Not long after, Lindsey also mourned the loss of her sibling. Yet through all the heartbreak, Blakely’s resilient spirit shone brightly.
“She was a live wire,” Lindsey recalled fondly. “A fun, spirited little girl who didn’t stay down for long. Yes, she felt sadness — but she didn’t skip a beat. She was incredibly strong.”
“She had this magnetic energy. People wanted to be around her because she was so funny and full of life. And oh, was she a prankster,” Lindsey smiled through tears.
After Blakely’s death was officially confirmed, Lindsey and her family released another deeply emotional statement. They shared that, though they had initially prayed fervently for a miracle, they had come to accept the heartbreaking truth: Blakely and many others had lost their lives in the early hours of the devastating flood.
Yet even in the depths of their grief, they found comfort in the belief that she was now resting safely in Jesus’ loving care.
Memories of Blakely’s bright and spirited personality continue to live on. She once played a playful prank by hiding her pet box turtle in her mother’s pocketbook, bringing laughter and surprise. More than that, Blakely had a calming presence; after the flood, one of her cabin counselors told Lindsey how Blakely had bravely encouraged the other campers to stay calm and not be afraid.
Her courage and light touched everyone around her—leaving a lasting legacy far greater than her years.
Now, Lindsey holds tightly to the letter—her daughter’s final words and lasting gift.
“I’m so grateful to keep her spirit alive,” Lindsey said softly. “I want to be the kind of mom who honors Blakely every day—who keeps her memory close, who doesn’t hide away the pictures or shy from the pain. She’s right here with me. I know she’s watching over me, keeping me strong.”
Together with Brady and the rest of their family, Lindsey draws strength from their faith to face each new day without Blakely.
“It’s incredibly hard to be without her—and without my husband—but our faith gives us hope,” Lindsey shared. “We find comfort knowing she’s in heaven, safe and at peace, watching down on us with love.”
“And we firmly believe it happened quickly,” Lindsey shared, seeking solace in the thought. “She didn’t have to suffer. I just have this feeling.” She added softly, “I imagine her with all those campers and staff who passed, and the other children too. I picture it as a happy, peaceful place.”
When Joy Turned to Grief: The Impact on Camp Mystic’s Campers and Families
The tragedy at Camp Mystic shook communities across Texas to their core. Blakely was not the only young life lost in the floods. While their 14-year-old sister, Harper, survived, twins Hanna and Rebecca Lawrence, both just 8 years old, tragically also perished.
The Lawrence twins were beloved granddaughters of David Lawrence Jr., a passionate advocate for early childhood education.
Their father, John Lawrence, reflected on the joy Hanna and Rebecca brought to their family and the wider community. “They filled our lives with so much happiness,” he said. “Though our hearts are broken, we will find a way to keep their joy alive and share it in their memory.”
The haunting contrast between joy and loss was captured in a photograph that soon went viral. Just days before the flood, thirteen Camp Mystic girls and two counselors were seen smiling brightly, arms wrapped tightly around one another on a tennis court—an image of friendship and hope frozen in time.
Tragically, many of those girls, including counselors Katherine Ferruzzo, Molly DeWitt, Abby Pohl, and Ellen Gorten, are now either missing or confirmed to have died in the disaster.
Tributes continue to pour in for the campers—Sarah Marsh, Janie Hunt, Eloise Peck, Lila Bonner, Anne Margaret Bellows, Renee Smajstrla, Linnie McCown, and Mary Stevens—and for counselor Chloe Childress, whose leadership and generosity touched the lives of many.
Their vibrant spirits and the bonds they shared remain a lasting testament to the community’s heartbreak and resilience.
Yet, Lindsey holds onto the belief that it’s the spirit of her daughter—and the joy she radiated—that keeps their love alive amid the sorrow. Blakely’s letter stands as a lasting testament to a young life brimming with happiness, resilience, and love.
When the floodwaters finally recede and families grapple with the deep ache of loss, that letter reminds them all of the light Blakely brought into the world—a light that will never fade.