pon awakening from an eight-month coma, a man was fatally struck by a pickup truck.
Florida resident Drew Kohn gained notoriety as a “miracle” guy in 2017 after he survived an accident.
Tragically, though, the 29-year-old was struck and killed on July 26, 2024—more than six years after waking up from a 244-day coma.
Yolanda Osborne-Kohn, his mother, said to WTLV, “God granted my request, and I’m not angry.”
“I’m not irate. I’m content. After seven years, I distinctly recall telling myself, “Thy will be done,” while seated on Drew’s hospital bed.
Kohn was hit by a pickup truck at around 5:30 in the morning while he was allegedly strolling east on a Jacksonville, Florida, street.
The Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office released the following statement to People magazine: “At that time, it was dark, and the pedestrian was not wearing reflective clothing.”Sadly, the pedestrian was struck in the outer lane by the pick-up truck driver who failed to see him. The pickup truck’s driver pulled over and dialed 911. After arriving on the scene, Jacksonville Fire and Rescue (JFRD) declared the person dead.
The driver of the truck remained at the scene, according to the authorities, and no one else was harmed or engaged.
It was also revealed that the medical examiner’s office and traffic homicide detectives had both been on the scene and were conducting their own investigations.
Kohn’s family established a GoFundMe page after the accident to assist with paying for his burial expenses as well as “medical expenses he accumulated.” As of this writing, more than $18,000 has been raised.
He was only “days away from his 30th birthday,” according to the fundraiser’s description, which also calls him a “modern-day miracle.”
Days before becoming 23 years old, years before Kohn’s tragic death, he had been in a terrible accident that had left him unconscious.
On July 17, 2017, Kohn’s motorcycle crashed into a car while he was riding it to the gym.
According to WTLV, the 22-year-old was taken to the hospital in a critical condition and placed in a coma due to a traumatic head injury, shattered shoulder, impaled lungs, and other injuries.
“Doctors thought he was brain dead and would never walk or talk again,” the GoFundMe website continues.
Oshnourne-Kohn told WTLV that, considering the likelihood of her son’s death, medical professionals advised her to gather her son’s organs for donation. She did, however, trust in God.
“My faith gave me the boldness to speak up and push back and let them know ‘You’re not getting a toenail or an eyelash,’” the mother stated.
When Kohn emerged from a +coma nearly a year after the crash, First Coast News reports that he said, “Yeah, Mom, I’m okay.” Mom, you are loved.”
Kohn gradually made a full recovery, going on to call himself “a modern-day miracle” and say, “My story represents never giving up hope.” God is the source of all possibilities. All I want to do is encourage them to never give up.
Kohn “is now completely healed and free,” according to the fundraising.
I Opened a Mysterious Door in My Cellar—Now I Regret Everything
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
In the back corner, we found something even stranger: an old wooden chest, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was locked, but the lock seemed weak, like it could easily break. Florence begged me to leave it alone, but I was too curious. I forced it open, and what I saw made my heart race.
Inside were old documents, letters written in a language I didn’t understand, and something wrapped in a faded cloth. When I unwrapped it, I froze. It was a small, strange object that didn’t belong in this world. Florence screamed and ran out of the cellar, terrified.
I should have followed her, but I was too deep into it. I put everything back in the chest and closed the door, but the feeling that something had changed wouldn’t leave me. Since that day, things have been different. Strange noises, cold drafts, and shadows moving where they shouldn’t.
Now, I regret opening that door. Florence refuses to go back into the cellar, and I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know what we uncovered, but I fear we’ve let something into our home that we can’t control. Every day, I wish I had just left the door hidden behind the wallpaper, where it belonged.
Now, the cellar remains locked. I’ve sealed the door with heavy boards, hoping that will keep whatever we disturbed at bay. Florence refuses to go near it, and our once happy home feels suffocating with the tension between us. It’s like the house itself has changed, like it’s watching us.
At night, I hear whispers coming from the floor below. I try to convince myself it’s just the wind or my imagination, but deep down, I know something’s wrong. The object I found in the chest haunts my thoughts—I’ve hidden it away, but it’s like it calls to me. Florence says I need to get rid of it, but I’m too afraid to touch it again.
I tried contacting the previous owners, but they didn’t know anything about the hidden room. They had lived here briefly before selling the house. No one in the neighborhood seems to know its history, and records of the house are vague. It’s like this part of the house was meant to stay forgotten.
I keep telling myself everything will be fine if I just leave it alone, but the strange occurrences are getting worse. Lights flicker, doors creak open on their own, and sometimes, I catch glimpses of something moving in the dark corners. It feels like the house is alive—angry that we disturbed its secret.
Florence is talking about moving, and maybe she’s right. But part of me knows that whatever we let out, whatever we disturbed, might not stay behind. And now, I wonder if sealing that door was just the beginning of something far more terrifying.
I never should have opened that door.
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