On the seventh anniversary of Hurricane Dorian’s catastrophic landfall in The Bahamas, one family’s intimate story lays bare the long-lasting psychological scars the Category 5 storm left on communities across Abaco and Grand Bahama.
Thirteen-year-old Brenden Dion Altidor was just six years old when Dorian’s 185mph sustained winds and catastrophic 18 to 23-foot storm surge tore through Abaco in late August 2019. Trapped by rapidly rising floodwaters alongside his stepfather Kailan “Kay” McIntosh, Brenden was placed in the safety of a tree by McIntosh, who left to rescue other stranded residents. He never returned, and is presumed to have died in the storm. Rescued hours later as floodwaters climbed around his perch, Brenden survived, but the trauma of that day has shaped his daily life in the years since.
Today, when rain falls over Abaco, Brenden reacts unlike most children his age. Where young people often gather at windows to watch storms, Brenden immediately closes every shutter and pulls all blinds tight, his father Mack Altidor shared in an interview with Tribune Media. This small but striking routine is just one visible reminder of the harm Dorian inflicted on survivors that continues seven years after the storm made landfall on September 1, 2019.
Dorian made history as the strongest hurricane to hit The Bahamas in modern recorded history. After slamming into Abaco as a Category 5 storm, the system slowed dramatically over the nation’s northwestern islands, leaving communities battered by destructive winds and devastating flooding for more than 48 straight hours. Official records confirm at least 70 people killed across Abaco and Grand Bahama, but the true toll remains incomplete: dozens of people were never found after the storm. Coroner’s inquests later declared 22 of the 35 reported missing people legally dead, but many families still wait for closure, unable to obtain death certificates for loved ones whose bodies were never recovered from the wreckage.
For the Altidor family, the storm’s legacy is layered with grief, gratitude, and healing. Mack Altidor, who lived in New Providence when Dorian struck, has never forgotten that McIntosh’s split-second decision to place Brenden in a tree saved his son’s life. “Even though he was my son’s stepdad, we had a relationship,” Altidor said. He has since grown close to McIntosh’s mother, and says he understands how deeply the lack of closure over her son’s disappearance has gutted her: “I really felt based on my conversation with her, that was killing her… so I think it affected them tremendously.”
Brenden, who continues to live in Abaco with his mother, also lost a cousin in the storm. While the family rarely talks openly about the disaster’s events, the psychological impact was severe enough that Altidor chose to hold his son back a year in school, allowing Brenden to attend a full year of trauma counseling. Today, Brenden is in eighth grade – a year behind where he would have been without the storm – but he is slowly putting the pieces of his childhood back together.
Altidor says he still grapples with what-ifs, recalling he urged Brenden’s mother to evacuate to higher ground the night before Dorian made landfall, after tracking forecasts that left him deeply uneasy. The family chose to shelter in place, a decision Altidor refuses to blame anyone for: “no one knows what’s going to happen,” he said, adding he will never let that lingering unease overshadow the sacrifice McIntosh made to save Brenden’s life.
Despite the lasting trauma, Altidor says Brenden is making progress. He has started a new school year, built new friendships, and increasingly lives like any other 13-year-old. “Some of his friends from his former school died, and it’s not something that they’re going to forget right now,” Altidor said. “But he’s coping. He’s doing new things, making new friends, and going like you know, like a normal kid.”