Murphy In the spring of 2016, the Grotefend family purchased their dream home in Cherokee County. They intended to transplant themselves to the mountains from a busy life in Dallas.
“I knew we needed to sell in Dallas; we needed a change,” Dr. Julie Royal (Grotenfend) said.
She met her husband, Donald, at a drum jam in Dallas and, like many young couples, ended up married with two children before they remembered that Dallas was meant to be a stopping place, not a homestead. So, after 14 years of marriage, they bought a home in Murphy.
The Grotenfends made their cross-country move in segments. Donald came out first to renovate and prepare their new home, while Julie stayed back in Texas with the girls, four horses, five cats, two dogs, 30 chickens and a piano.
She also had a thriving chiropractic business she needed to prepare to sell. The family hobbled along during the next year, with Donald driving the 25-hour roundtrip commute every couple of weeks.
Once the house became livable, the girls transitioned from Dallas to Murphy in time for the 2017 school year. Royal stayed back to tie up the loose ends and sell her practice.
It was 2019, and Royal became the family commuter. One year passed, then another, while Royal tried to sell, despite investor issues and deal breakers.
Royal made the now-rote commute to Murphy in April 2019 to see the girls and her husband. Maya was turning 13, so they spent the week enjoying birthday fun.
Although she didn’t know it at the time, this trip would be the last time Royal would drive that route. Two weeks after she returned to Dallas, her good friend would drive her straight back up – but this time, two things had changed.
One, she would never move back to Dallas. Two, her world was now unrecognizable.
Life changes in a moment
It was a Wednesday on June 19, 2019, and the Grotenfend girls were in the middle of a lazy Murphy summer. Kela, 16, planned a tour of Western Carolina University that day, so the sisters and their dad got up early to make the two-hour drive to Cullowhee.
It had been raining that morning – nothing menacing, just a light summer rain. The girls sang songs in the car, and at one point Kela discussed her future, speculating how many children she’d like to have. Ten minutes later, she would be dead.
Donald hit a dip on U.S. 19 at mile marker 63 that was filled with water. He hydroplaned through it,
but was unable to gain control of his Toyota Sequoia, and in the momentum the vehicle propelled off the road. There were no guardrails to stop it.
The car continued its motion until it hurtled between two trees. The terrifying event lasted just seconds.
Maya, who had been lying down in the back seat, sat up at the first sign of distress. This lucky action saved her life, as a tree branch smashed through the window and pressed into the seat where her head had been.
Kela, however, wasn’t as lucky. Pressed between the pressure of the tree and metal of the car, Kela died instantly when the airbag broke through the crumpled dashboard at an angle – and with enough force to break her neck.
‘She had helped them’
The rest happened quickly and incomprehensibly slowly. Donald, who had broken a few ribs, was able to exit the car. Even before he did, he knew Kela was gone.
He ran around to the passenger side to help Maya, but her leg was trapped under the tree. Even with the adrenaline and panic coursing through him, he could not excavate her.
The paramedics arrived; Maya was cut out. Kela was cut out. The phones were destroyed in the accident, so Royal was busy in Dallas, mercifully unaware that her life had turned upside.
Eventually, and the details are blurry, Royal received news of Kela’s death.
“I answered the phone, and a voice I didn’t recognize told me that Kela had died in a car accident,” Royal recalled.
She later realized that the voice was her husband’s. Neither of them would ever be the same.
The family went through the machinations that death requires, and after things began to settle down, Royal scrolled through her daughter’s computer one day.
“It became apparent, very quickly, how amazing my daughter was. She had a lot of friends around the world,” Royal said.
Kela had been very active on a site called Discord, a gathering place for disenfranchised teenagers needing an outlet for their angst. It grew to a safe place to gather and build community.
Royal began reading through some of the threads her daughter participated in.
“All these people that she had been supporting, joined and grieved together,” her mom said. “She had helped them through depression, mean parents, suicidal thoughts and self harm.”
‘Lots of self harm’
Suddenly, Royal had a place to channel her loss and grief.
“I stepped in and began supporting the people who were grieving Kela’s death,” she said. One girl wrote in, “She wanted to live and I wanted to die, but she died so now I’m going to live.”
Royal felt inspired by the community her daughter started and decided to continue her legacy. She opened up her own server on Discord using her daughter’s online name, The Kendra Kat Foundation.
“I started connecting with more and more of her friends, and the server really grew,” Royal said. “We’ve got three support channels, eight administrative moderators and 16 supporters.”
Royal calls it a positivity channel, and it’s what moved her through her grief.
“I’m on there four to six hours a day,” she said with a laugh.
Royal has become a mama bear for the kids who travel to Kela’s site.
“Sometimes they ask me why I care, and I tell them that I lost my daughter and feel this immense love for people,” she said.
A few years after her daughter’s death, Royal opened her chiropractic and martial arts practice called Murphy Healing Arts. She painted her treatment room the same pale blue color of Kela’s bedroom and keeps her daughter’s sneakers under her desk. Royal’s practice and Discord server fill her life with purpose.
“Kela’s favorite quote was, “There is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for,” from Lord of the Rings,” she said.
Royal feels she has found the good, and will continue to fight for it.