Posted on: April 12, 2025
Hurricane Helene made landfall on September 27th. That’s a day I won’t be forgetting anytime soon. It came in fast, loud, and unrelenting — one of those storms you feel in your gut before it even touches down. When the winds finally died down, we were left in silence. No power. No cell service. Just the sound of generators humming and neighbors checking in on each other.
We were without electricity for a couple of weeks, but we were lucky — truly. So many others around us weren’t. Some of our neighbors lost their homes entirely. Others had barns torn to pieces, cars crushed, and memories scattered across fields like confetti. And worst of all, lives were lost. Helene didn’t just damage buildings — it left empty chairs at dinner tables. That’s not something you ever get used to hearing about, especially not close to home.
For us, the storm ripped off a portion of the metal roofing on my home. It peeled it back like a sardine can, flinging screws and bent metal across the yard. It wasn’t just the metal that came off — the furring strips it was attached to came up with it. What’s underneath that metal roof, for anyone curious, is an old shingle roof. When I climbed up to assess the damage, it didn’t take long to realize the decking beneath those shingles wasn’t in great shape either. Several areas of the OSB had gone soft over the years and were no longer reliable. The storm didn’t just uncover a problem — it forced me to deal with one I hadn’t known the full extent of.
I gave myself two days to get it fixed. I didn’t want to leave the house exposed longer than that, especially with storms still in the forecast. Day one was spent tearing off the old shingles and identifying all the soft decking that needed replacing. It was slow, dusty, and hotter than I’d hoped for. Every time I pulled up a nail or tossed down another shingle, I thought about how easily this could have gone worse. I thought about the folks down the road, still trying to salvage what little they had left. And I felt grateful — not just for the roof I was patching, but for the fact that I still had one.
Once the bad OSB was replaced and buttoned up, I rolled out fresh roofing felt over the entire surface. That was the first time I breathed a little easier. The house was covered again. I could sleep a bit better that night, knowing the rain wouldn’t get in.
Day two, my cousin came out to lend a hand. She and I laid down all new furring strips, checked every line, and got to work screwing in the new metal panels. It was a job meant for at least two people, and without her, I’d still be up there right now cursing the wind. We worked well together, kept it light, and stayed focused. Before long, panel after panel locked into place and the green roof started to take shape again.
Standing back and looking at the finished job, I felt something deeper than just relief. It wasn’t just about patching a roof. It was a reminder of how storms — literal and otherwise — expose weaknesses we might not see until the damage is already done. But they also give us the chance to rebuild stronger, smarter, and more thankful than before.
We were fortunate. I say that with full awareness. Helene took a lot from people, and we got off relatively easy. My heart goes out to everyone still recovering, especially those who lost more than just property. And to those who didn’t make it, your stories matter. You’re remembered.
I fixed my roof — but I’ll never forget why I had to.
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