Michael Taylor | From the weight of waiting to the agony of the aftermath

I first wrote these reflections while we were still waiting for Hurricane Melissa to make landfall – a nation caught between forecasts and fear. Now that it has passed, and the resulting devastation is all too clear, I return to them even more convinced of their urgency. Melissa has come and gone, leaving behind not only wrecked communities but wounded minds.

FROM ANTICIPATION TO AFTERSHOCK

Melissa first entered our consciousness when the initial Watch was issued a week before landfall. What followed was not the usual passage of a storm, but a prolonged period of anxiety as Jamaica held its breath. Melissa slowed to a crawl – strengthening, shifting, threatening, but never quite arriving. Each new advisory moved the goalposts for landfall, and for days we lived in suspended animation – not yet hit, not yet safe.

Across the island, that collective tension was tangible – in the uneasy silence replacing regular street noises, in the faces in long supermarket lines, and in weary repeated glances to the skies for any sign of change. Over six days we learned that hurricanes can wound the psyche long before they touch the shore.

But what followed next - from eventual landfall to the immediate aftermath – became nothing short of a psychological marathon.

Anxiety became fatigue, and fatigue resignation – the quiet surrender of “if it’s to come, just come.” And when the winds and rains finally came, simmering anxiety erupted as terror - for hours. Then finally exhaustion… silence … disbelief…as communities emerged to landscapes they could hardly recognize.

And now, as the scale of devastation – particularly across western Jamaica – becomes clearer, disbelief is giving way to despair, accompanied by renewed anxiety and, for many, deep grief. These are the raw emotions of those who have lost everything and can’t imagine how to start again; of those ‘less impacted’ who still can’t account for family or friends; of those waiting anxiously for help to arrive sooner rather than later; and of those grieving loved ones who perished in the hurricane. None of us have been left emotionally unscathed.

CLIMATE-CHANGED ENVIRONMENT

A UWI co-authored study shows that scientifically Melissa displayed the fingerprints of our warming world. Sea-surface temperatures across the Caribbean were one and a half degrees Celsius above average – a deep energy reservoir that fuelled Melissa’s rapid intensification. At the same time, weakened steering winds left it nearly motionless, allowing it to draw moisture and eventually unleash torrents of rain and climate change enhanced catastrophic winds. We saw playing out in front of our eyes the very behaviours research has long projected for storms in a global warming era: storms that intensify faster, blow harder, and rain longer.

But Melissa is now showing that climate change is not only reshaping the physical climate; it is also amplifying the emotional one. The mental fatigue of long warnings, the dread of the disaster, the trauma of storms that stack one upon another (Hurricane Beryl battered southwestern Jamaica just over a year ago), and the despondency of sitting amidst the rubble not knowing where to turn or what to do – these, too, are climate impacts.

RESILIENCE OF COMMUNITY AND MIND

This is why the conversations that are emerging about future resilience must go beyond stronger buildings. In addition to engineering codes, early-warning systems, and emergency shelters – as storms slow and morph into super hurricanes, resilience must also address mental health. The mental toll begins before the storm hits and does not end when the rain stops.

As we are also seeing, it only deepens in the aftermath. Emotional first aid must be treated as every bit as essential as restoring infrastructure. Alongside restoring power lines and roads, we must restore calm, connection, and care. Counselling support, faith-based outreach, school guidance programmes, circles of empathy, and all the other ways the experts suggest are not luxuries; they are now necessities for recovery.

Gratefully, even before Melissa’s impact, we witnessed the power and potential of support – neighbours calling to check on one another, sharing supplies; churches streaming comfort online; WhatsApp groups keeping company through the night; experts monitoring, explaining, and guiding; people praying. We see it also now in the outpouring of goodwill as people search for all available avenues to assist. Even in despair, the Caribbean endures through community.

LESSONS FOR THE FUTURE

Melissa will, in time, move fully into memory. But the lessons it leaves behind must stay. One is that climate change is rewriting the rhythm of the hurricane season. The possibility of longer preparation, longer impacts, longer recovery – a stretched timeline that strains both resources and resilience. Melissa offers a glimpse of our new climate era, where the stacking of hazard timelines leads to the accumulation of stress.

A second lesson is that adaptation must account for this human dimension. Caribbean nations must plan for the emotional arc of disasters, not just their physical footprint. Catastrophe no longer announces itself suddenly; sometimes it unfolds slowly – in the waiting, the enduring, and the waking after. The next frontier of climate adaptation will be measured not only in concrete and steel, but in how well we care for the emotional well-being of our people.

The storms will come again – and so must our compassion.

Michael A. Taylor is professor of climate science and dean of the Faculty of Science and Technology at The University of the West Indies, Mona. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com