Hurricane Milton in Florida prompts family to drive 1,210 miles to save grandma.
Amid the chaos of hurricanes, Jennifer Seaman and her mother, Sue Schaffnit, felt an escalating concern for their beloved family member. Their 93-year-old grandmother resided in an assisted living facility in Venice, Florida, which lay perilously close to the powerful storm’s path.
As Hurricane Milton unleashed its fury on the Gulf Coast, uncertainty loomed large. With flights out of the area completely booked, the urgency to act overshadowed practicality. “I just knew we had to get her out,” Seaman expressed, a sense of determination evident in her words. Whether it was desperation or duty, the decision was made swiftly – they would drive.
At precisely nine o’clock p.m. on October 6th, reality hit hard. Just as the wind began to howl and rain poured down, Seaman was on the phone with her mother. Back to back calls revealed the grim reality; every single flight was completely booked. “We realized we had no choice. So, we got in the car,” she recounted, almost surreal in its simplicity.
Just five minutes at her mother’s house sealed the fate. With no bags packed and change of clothes left behind, the two women began their 20-hour trek from Peoria, Illinois, reaching Venice through an endless stretch of asphalt – a staggering 1,210-mile journey in pursuit of paramount family bonds.
As they arrived, they discovered that the assisted living home, which had planned to shelter in place, was urging residents to remain. “We couldn’t imagine her facing this alone. If disaster struck, we wanted to be there,” Seaman reflected, the weight of that resolve shining through. Family matters more than anything, especially in moments of uncertainty.
With grandma safely in tow, the escape began. Yet, the road home was far from clear. Encounters with gridlock engulfed their journey, sitting motionless for six hours while only meandering a mere 100 miles. “The storm’s ferocity was palpable, and we could feel the building tension as we made our way out,” Seaman recalled, the frustration evident in her tone.
Finally, a brief respite beckoned at a hotel near Atlanta, Georgia. Three hours of sleep served as a recharge, a fleeting intermission in this hurried saga. “We pushed on, though, knowing home awaited us,” Seaman recounted, determination swelling back into her voice.
By the time they returned to Peoria, relief washed over Seaman’s grandmother. “She was incredibly grateful to escape before the storm hit. But she still longs for Florida,” Seaman shared, the blend of gratitude and yearning tugging at their hearts. The bittersweet reality of their lives unfolded before them; a connection marked by ties of love, yet unsettled by the unpredictable nature of life’s storms.
In these moments of transition, a curious thought emerges—they left a home for safety, yet who truly defines “home”? As the family looks back at the flooding reports from Venice and the power outages that swallowed the town, their thoughts drift towards their next steps. Daily struggles mingle with the resilience of a family brought closer together through adversity.
