FORT MYERS, Fla. – More than two decades ago, Jane and Del Compton stumbled upon Fort Myers while vacationing in southwest Florida. This is where they would retire, they decided on the spot, in a place where they could grow old in peace and in the sun.
They bought a double lot with a mobile home and a few little luxuries: a fan with a remote control and televisions for him and for her so she could catch her soap operas and he could watch cowboy shows.
But Hurricane Ian tore through their slice of paradise, soaking up photos from four decades of marriage, wrecking their car and leaving them with no place to live. They had no home insurance; their policy was canceled in June due to the age of their home, a 1978 model.
Now the Comptons — she’s 77, he’s 81 — are resigned to abandoning their dream of retirement. They will return to their native Louisville, Ky., in the coming weeks to stay with their daughter and determine their next steps, though they are loath to leave their beloved church community and friends. Spending their twilight years in Florida suddenly seems out of reach.
“We talked about it, we discussed it, we cried about it, we cried about it,” Ms Compton said, sitting outside the church where the couple stayed with the only box of sentimental treasures they had. they succeeded in rescue. “Our bubble has burst.”
Official tallies of storm-related deaths suggest that older Americans died in disproportionate numbers: of the 87 victims (out of 123 total in the United States) for whom an age or approximate age was published, 61 of between them were at least 60 years old. Old. Many victims were found dead in their homes. But Ian didn’t just kill more old people; it also created particularly heartbreaking situations for those who survived.
Even if they can afford to rebuild, these people may not have the time or energy for such a difficult task and the prospect of stricter building codes could make it more expensive than ever. Many, like the Comptons, live on fixed incomes, don’t have flood insurance or bought their homes before the housing boom of the past decade, when the area was much more affordable. Reclaiming their paradise may not be possible – a cruel and brutal blow.
In interviews, several residents said they defiantly weathered the storm in the homes they invested their savings in, in part to ensure they could easily start cleaning up the mess.
Richard Hoyle, 75, moved with his wife to Pine Island, near Fort Myers, in December after she applied to move to the area from the mountains of Tennessee. He had insisted they stay during the hurricane, but the storm surge swept over the second stairway to their house, and they watched boats fly through the channel with winds exceeding 150 miles in the wind. hour.
The aftermath of Hurricane Ian
“We had already decided, this is our retirement home, and we are going to stay and fight for it,” said Mr Hoyle, a former seaman and firefighter. “I’m glad we stayed – some battles are worth fighting.”
Similarly, Garland Roach, 79, said he had no intention of leaving his badly damaged home in a modest neighborhood of North Fort Myers, where the lone palm tree in his front yard was now surrounded by drain pipes, siding and other debris.
“My daughter wants me to come back to Ohio, and I told her I would do it in my ashes,” he said, adding that he hoped the Federal Emergency Management Agency or the Guard National would provide a tarp for its mangled roof. “I couldn’t spend another winter up there with my arthritis.”
Two of the storm’s dead, Florida officials said, were men in their 60s who took their own lives after seeing their property destroyed.
“I think that’s a breaking point for a lot of people,” said Carol Freeman, 75, as she stopped to clean up the muddy ground of her storm-ravaged Pine Island home.
Since the hurricane, Ms Freeman, a retired postwoman who lives with her parrot, Jose, has been without electricity, forced to use baby wipes to stay clean and, at least once, eat a military-style meal given for dinner. She had spent days wondering if it was worth staying.
Maybe it’s time, she said, to return to her native Chicago after about four decades on the island. “Too old to do that,” she said.
Some retirees who have wintered on the Gulf Coast are already planning their out-state outings.
In Fort Myers Beach, an island town that drew tourists and snowbirds from the Midwest, whole groups of friends were gathering recently to inspect the wreckage — and begin to mourn the end of their lives in Florida. In Gulf Cove, a mobile home community near the base of a bridge, residents were trying to salvage belongings from their ruined properties. Some said they expected the plot of waterfront land where they had cultivated close friendships over the years to be sold to developers and razed to the ground.
“Even if something miraculous happened so that we could get back together, there are a lot of couples in the 80s or 90s,” said one of the residents, Deb Macer, 69. “They just won’t come back.”
Before the hurricane, the days in their neighborhood had a familiar and comforting rhythm. The retirees who lived there planned for coffee hours and daily walks across the bridge to Estero Island. Mrs. Macer planned craft meetings and her husband, Stacy, 70, was known as the handyman in the community.
“I’m afraid he’s gone,” said their friend Paul Wasko, 75. “That way of life is gone.”
Cindy and Steve Duello had barely begun to realize their dream of retiring here. Frequent walks and bike rides around Fort Myers Beach had kept them feeling vibrant and healthy well into their 60s. They tended to their orchids, mingled with neighbors and taught their grandchildren to scour the beach for precious heart-shaped rocks.
At the center of it all was a modest two-bedroom house on Albatross Street, the gathering place since the 1980s for four generations of Duellos.
“It was only 1,200 square feet, but it was our mansion,” said Ms. Duello, 68.
Ian left much of Fort Myers Beach a flattened, unrecognizable ruin, and the Duello house saturated with seawater. A few days after the storm, the Duellos traveled to the island, saw their house destroyed, and were realized that the city could not be rebuilt in time for them to enjoy it again.
“He’s not coming back in our lifetime,” Ms. Duello said, through tears. “I can feel it has already aged me.”
For some older Floridians, the storm created a world with no good options: They couldn’t imagine leaving the state at this point in their lives, but their homes were gone, perhaps forever.
In Naples, about 40 miles south of Fort Myers, the River Park neighborhood was a scene of desperation Thursday. Workers and owners were hauling soaked items out of homes, building giant piles of debris on the sidewalk.
Rosalie Bulger, 73, was in her living room, examining what remained of the one-story stucco house where she had lived for 35 years. The smell of mold and rot was overpowering.
“I’m numb,” she said as workers wearing N95 masks moved her belongings down the aisle: glassware, decorative jars, a rack of brightly colored dresses.
Mrs. Bulger enjoyed a life with the comforts of family nearby: her daughter and son-in-law lived in the bungalow next door. As she looked around at her crumbling belongings, she said she would depend on God to help her figure out what to do next, even though she couldn’t imagine how long it would take – if ever – to his house to be habitable again.
“I’m not going,” she said of the idea that she would join relatives or friends in another state. “But we can’t live here anymore either.”
After her husband died last year on Mother’s Day, Linda Stevens, 75, decided to live permanently on Pine Island, which offered many people much more affordable sanctuary than wealthier homes. from nearby Sanibel Island. She and her husband had traded the harsh Maine winters for days by the water on the north end of the island. She loved their new life: the friends from church, the volunteer work, the lush landscape.
Ian was Ms Stevens’ first hurricane, sending her snuggling up with neighbors after a traffic jam of evacuees deterred her from leaving the island. They cared for her, making sure she was fed and able to leave safely after days without electricity or running water.
“If I was 50, I would toughen up and say I’m coming back. But I’m not 50 anymore,” Ms Stevens said. “I will never experience another hurricane season again.”
Now she is considering either selling her house completely or getting back into the snowbird lifestyle, moving closer to one of her daughters and spending only the winter months in the area.
But right now, she said, “I can’t make that decision. I am still in mourning.
If you are having suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (TALK) or go to SpeakingOfSuicide.com/resources for a list of additional resources.
Eliza FawcettCharles Ballaro, Jennifer Reed and Michael Smith contributed report.