“I Love You, Dad”: Texas Father’s Final Kayak Journey Ends in Tragedy as He Tries to Reach His Daughters During Deadly Floods

In the quiet darkness of early morning on July 4th, what should have been a joyful family holiday turned into a nightmare of unimaginable heartbreak for one Texas father. As deadly flash floods swept through the hill country near Hunt, Texas, 45-year-old RJ Harber—a Dallas attorney and father of two—made a desperate attempt to reach his daughters, navigating rising waters by kayak in a last-ditch effort to save his family.

That night, central Texas was pounded by a massive storm system, bringing with it torrential rain and destructive flash flooding that claimed the lives of at least 50 people, including more than a dozen children. One of the most harrowing stories to emerge from the disaster is that of the Harber family—whose July Fourth celebration at their cabin community, Casa Bonita, ended in tragedy.

RJ Harber and his wife Annie, 43, were staying in their family cabin just above the river. Their daughters—13-year-old Blair and 11-year-old Brooke—were staying in a nearby cabin closer to the water with their grandparents, Mike and Charlene Harber. In the early hours of Friday morning, RJ awoke to thunder, lightning, and heavy rain. Moments later, he stepped out of bed and into four inches of water. The cabin was flooding.

“I told Annie, ‘The cabin’s flooding,’” RJ recalled. He looked out the window and saw the river rising rapidly. The front door was jammed, and within minutes, the water had climbed from floor-level to Annie’s neck. They grabbed what they could—cell phones, a single bag—and jumped out the window into the black floodwaters.

The Harbers made it to higher ground and roused two other nearby families. With time slipping away and no word from his daughters, RJ borrowed a kayak, a flashlight, and a life vest. His plan: to reach the cabin where Blair and Brooke were sleeping with their grandparents. The river was already raging, but RJ was determined.

“I got about halfway there when I hit a post and shined my flashlight,” RJ said. “It was white water. I’ve kayaked enough to know that was going to be impossible. I was looking at detached cabins, floating cars, trees coming at me. If I’d gone one stroke farther, I wouldn’t be here.”

Unable to reach them, RJ turned back, forced to make the most gut-wrenching decision of his life. “I knew I couldn’t save them,” he said quietly.

At 3:45 a.m., the group found refuge in a home across Highway 39, where a stranger let them in. It was then that RJ checked his phone—and saw the message. A single text from 11-year-old Brooke, timestamped at 3:30 a.m., simply read: “I love you.” Annie received the same message from both daughters: “I love you.”

The miracle of those messages arriving—despite spotty cell service in the rural area—only deepened the heartbreak. Their other grandfather, who lives in Michigan, also received a text with the words “Love you,” accompanied by a photo of the girls.

All night, the Harbers and others sheltered in place, listening in horror as the sounds of destruction filled the air—unmistakable cracks, groans, and crashes. They later realized they had been hearing the cabins being torn from their foundations and smashed downstream by the force of the flood.

At sunrise, RJ returned to what was once their happy place. Of the two dozen cabins in Casa Bonita, only six remained standing. The others had been obliterated—washed away, reduced to broken tiles and debris. The cabin that had housed his daughters and his parents was gone.

By Sunday, the bodies of Blair and Brooke Harber had been recovered and identified about a dozen miles downriver. Mike and Charlene Harber, RJ’s parents, remain missing.

The family had owned their cabin since 2020. It was a beloved escape—filled with laughter, fishing trips, kayaking, and campfires. Now, that place of joy has become the site of unspeakable sorrow.

“All those great memories are now a bad memory,” RJ said through tears.

As search and rescue teams continue to comb the flood-ravaged landscape for survivors and the missing, stories like the Harbers’ underscore the devastating human toll of natural disasters. In mere minutes, lives are upended. Families are torn apart. And in some cases, all that remains is a text message—a final “I love you”—sent in the dark by two brave young girls, moments before the river claimed them.

The Harber story has sent shockwaves through Texas and beyond. Not only for its tragedy, but for the sheer depth of love, courage, and sacrifice that defined RJ’s actions and his daughters’ final moments.

“These weren’t just flood victims,” a friend of the family posted online. “They were campers, sisters, granddaughters, and bright lights in their school community. Blair and Brooke were the kind of girls who lit up a room.”

Annie, who works at St. Rita Catholic School in Dallas—where both daughters were students—has been surrounded by an outpouring of love from students, parents, and staff. A memorial fund has been established in honor of the Harber girls, aimed at supporting both recovery efforts and flood preparedness education.

Meanwhile, RJ, who risked his life to reach his family, is still struggling to process the events of that night. “I tried,” he said. “God knows I tried. But the river was stronger than I was.”

In a world where nature’s fury often seems unstoppable, stories like RJ’s remind us that love doesn’t drown. It fights. It rows against the current. And sometimes, it gets there just in time to say goodbye.

Blair and Brooke Harber are survived by their parents, grandparents, extended family, classmates, and a Texas community that now holds them in its heart.

Though the waters have receded, the ache remains. But so does the memory of two young girls who, in the midst of fear and rising floodwaters, thought only to reach out with one final message:

“I love you.”