A tree-covered lot in northwest Travis County is all that remains of a family home that stood beside Big Sandy Creek for nearly 50 years. Now the land is marked by rocks, patches of wildflowers and lingering debris.

“It makes me feel lost,” said Sherry McCutcheon as she walked around the now-unrecognizable plot nearly one year later.

For McCutcheon and her sister, Terry Traugott, the property was more than a house. They lived there briefly decades ago, then spent countless hours over the years visiting their mother, Betty West, and two brothers, Doug West and Gary Traugott, who stayed.

“When we walk around a little bit, you want to feel them,” Terry Traugott said. “I can sometimes.”

Their mother and brothers were among the 10 people recovered along Big Sandy Creek after floodwaters surged far beyond the creek’s banks during last year’s Independence Day floods, turning a quiet creek into one of the deadliest places in Central Texas.

The flooding tore through this rural Travis County community with a force that reshaped both the land and the families rooted there. Outside of Kerr County, few places were hit harder. Raging floodwaters swept away homes, shredded roads and bridges and carried off about three dozen vehicles.

Travis County says 115 properties were damaged or destroyed. The disaster has cost the county about $30 million so far in debris removal, recovery efforts and repairs.

To help cover the mounting costs, the Travis County Commissioners raised property taxes by 9.12% in September, a move expected to generate an additional $42 million in revenue.

But for all the money and machinery poured into rebuilding, much of the recovery remains unfinished. As of June, seven flood-related projects were still incomplete.

For families like Traugott and McCutcheon, the deeper repairs cannot be measured in contracts or construction timelines.

One year later, “it just reminds me how long it’s been since we even touched them,” Traugott said.

The last ordinary day

The last normal day began quietly.

On July 4, the sisters picked up Betty from the creekside house to spend the day together and help her with a few chores. They ended the night with Chinese food, Betty’s favorite, before driving her home to their brothers a couple of hours before midnight.

By then, rain was falling steadily.

Nearly a year later, Traugott still recalls the night minute by minute.

“I remember we pulled in the driveway at 10:31 p.m.,” Traugott said. “We left at 11:18 p.m. Two or three hours later, the flood hit.”

By the time they prepared to leave, the rain had intensified enough that they considered staying.

“Are we going to get killed in a car wreck if we leave?” Traugott recalled asking herself. “Something said, ‘No, go home,’ and we left.”

Before pulling away, McCutcheon looked back at her mother one last time.

“My mama smiled,” McCutcheon said. “She was like glowing; her face was just lit up, and she was so pretty, her eyes were just sparkling.”

Hours later, emergency alerts and frantic messages about the flooding woke them.

At first, they hoped Betty and their brothers had escaped somewhere safe. But by 9 a.m., after repeated calls and texts went unanswered, that hope dissipated.

“We didn’t feel them anymore,” Traugott said.

Recovery crews found Betty and Doug within the first few days. Gary wasn’t found until July 11, but his identity wasn’t confirmed until July 20, Traugott said.

As she relived those moments speaking with Austin Current, McCutcheon wore a small braided silver necklace with a cross pendant.

“This necklace was on my mama when they found her,” she said.

Rebuilding what can’t be rebuilt

In the weeks and months after the flood, the creek became a corridor of recovery crews: first responders. Emergency management officials. Volunteers.

At Travis County Judge Andy Brown’s request, the Texas Division of Emergency Management deployed more than 270 responders from local, state and national agencies to support search, rescue and recovery operations.

Those teams rescued 58 people and assisted another 29, according to the county. Search crews combed about 30 miles of waterways, including Big Sandy Creek and Cow Creek, both of which feed into the Colorado River.

One year later, only two homes in the area have been fully rebuilt or repaired, the county said. Many families remain in trailers, stalled by insurance disputes, permits and the slow mechanics of rebuilding.

“We lost three houses, five cars, all of our livestock, all of our barns, our business,” said Brandy Gerstner, who lived across the creek from West’s family home. “It wiped everything that we’ve worked 36 years for right off the earth.”

As they rebuild, Gerstner and her family are also waiting on flood-warning systems, such as water gauges and warning sirens, along with improvements to critical infrastructure, including the road that allows them to cross Sandy Creek. The crossing is one of the seven flood-related projects Travis County says remains in development.

Senate Bill 3 passed during last summer’s special session, directing the Texas Water Development Board to identify areas within flood-affected counties that would benefit from flood warning sirens.

In March, the board released a flood-mapping tool showing the land surrounding Big Sandy Creek had a “moderate to high” flood risk.

Travis County will be responsible for building and maintaining the sirens and will be reimbursed for portions of the associated costs once completed.

“There’s not been a lot of positive progression forward in reference to trying to rebuild our lives,” said Ashlee Willis, Gerstner’s daughter.

While some families rebuild, McCutcheon and Traugott have decided they cannot. Selling the family property, they said, is the only choice that makes financial sense.

The decision carries its own kind of grief.

“Happy, and sad relief, because we don’t have to pay the taxes anymore and keep mowing it,” she said. But sad because it feels like “we’re selling my mom and the boys.”

Still, both families say one thing has remained steady through the loss and uncertainty: the people around them.

“We never lived here except for one year in high school,” McCutcheon said. “But they act like we belong. That’s a good feeling.”