ELLICOTT CITY, Md. — Two lives forever lost. But traditions, ten years later, have kept their spirits alive.
Cheering on their favorite college sports team.
Spreading roses, or maybe even candy hearts, where all can see.
The night of July 30, 2016 was a Saturday when Ellicott City was a buzz with families and visitors enjoying a summer weekend, a night to enjoy the historic town.
38-year-old Joe Blevins and 35-year-old Jessica Watsula were doing just that. But their nights would end in tragedy.
Remembering Joe Blevins
Blevins’ fiancée, Heather Owens, recalls the moment she learned he would never return home again. Nursing her own wounds, physical and mental from the floodwaters in the hospital, the news came from a Howard County officer.
“My entire life was ripped from me in like two seconds, and I didn’t know how to function,” she said.
He's now been gone as many years as they were together.
“He was larger than life, I swear,” she said. “It was so weird. He just understood how to do things. He was so resourceful, and I just, I can't believe that the flood took him.”
The pair, who frequently visited the town with Blevins’ children, drove in that night to play Pokémon Go, all the rage that summer. But waiting out the rain in the town’s main parking lot, things only got worse. Owens saw dumpsters floating, and fearing the worst, Blevins began to drive home.
Their car ended up washing down Main Street and into the Patapsco River.
“In that moment I felt so distant from him. Like he felt like a million miles away. That was like the last thing I said was ‘We're gonna die.’”
Only, Owens would live. Not a strong swimmer, she says she grabbed a branch that brought her to safety. It's something she's only recently been able to speak about publicly.
“I have no idea how I survived,” she said. “But I'm here, I’m gonna share my story as long as I live.”
She’s started a podcast called “I Grabbed a Branch” a nod to her survival, in more ways than one.
Part of her healing comes from holding true to Blevin’s Virginia Tech roots. She still cheers on their football team and wears the scarlet and orange to feel closer to him.
Twice a year, on the anniversary and his birthday, she comes to a tree located at that same parking lot that’s dedicated in his honor.
“I feel like his presence is still here. It just makes me feel like at home when I’m with the tree,” she said.
Remembering Jessica Watsula
The tree sits next to another, for Watsula.
Sometimes her family meets there, but oftentimes her brother Curtis Baker Jr. heads further down the river to a tree that holds somber significance.
It’s where she was found after the waters receded. Where his journey to find her that night ended.
“It's easy to forget about things and, and we get all get very busy with life, so for me this is my little time of reflecting on her and her life,” Brubaker said.
Watsula was having a girls’ night with her mother, sister and sister-in-law at the former Portali’s restaurant that night.
All four were swept away, but Watsula was the only one unaccounted for.
Brubaker raced down from Pennsylvania when he heard.
“I didn't even think twice about it. I mean, that's my little sister. If it would have been any of my family members, I would have been doing the same thing,” he said.
Sometimes he’ll visit with family. His niece, Sarah Watsula, joins him often.
She was 10 at the time she lost her mother, but still remembers her larger-than-life personality, her spunk and adventurous spirit.
“My mom was always very outgoing and bubbly, she was the life of the party, so we always had a lot of fun when we did anything with her,” Watsula said.
“She was a little 5’1” powerhouse. She was a gym rat. She loved working out. She was super strong and fit. She had a huge smile and she had a very contagious laugh,” Brubaker recalled.
Every year, they scatter roses along the rocks in the river by the Frederick Road bridge, to remind others to keep her memory alive.
Sometimes even they'll make a game out of it to see if they can land on the same spots as the year before. Or occasionally, they’ll throw in red hot candies, Watsula’s favorite.