In the quiet chaos of a family holiday text thread, those words seemed like nothing special at the time—just a warm, everyday closing from a mum to her teenage son. “LOVE YOU 100%, MAX…” Hannah Furse typed, perhaps with a smile emoji or a heart, before setting her phone down. It was Thursday morning, January 23, 2026, and 15-year-old Max Furse-Kee was enjoying the summer school holidays at the Mount Maunganui Beachside Holiday Park on New Zealand’s North Island, a popular spot nestled at the base of the sacred Mauao (Mount Maunganui). No one could have known those words would soon read like an unwitting goodbye, etched forever in grief as one of the most heartbreaking details to emerge from a catastrophic landslide that claimed six young and innocent lives.
The disaster struck without warning at around 9:30 a.m. Heavy, relentless rains—part of a brutal weather system drenching the Bay of Plenty region—saturated the slopes above the campground. Witnesses described an “almighty cracking” sound, like the earth itself groaning in protest, before a massive wall of soil, trees, rocks, and debris roared down the hillside. It smashed through caravans, tents, an amenities block, and parts of the neighboring Mount Hot Pools complex in seconds. The slide buried vehicles, flattened structures, and trapped people beneath tonnes of unstable mud and rubble. Voices were heard calling for help in the immediate aftermath, but silence fell soon after as rescuers scrambled in.
Six people vanished under the onslaught: 15-year-olds Max Furse-Kee and his girlfriend Sharon Maccanico, both students at Pakūranga College in East Auckland; 50-year-old literacy coordinator Lisa Maclennan; longtime friends Jacqualine Suzanne Wheeler and Susan Doreen Knowles, both 71; and 20-year-old Swedish backpacker Måns Loke Bernhardsson. Police quickly shifted from rescue to recovery mode after human remains were located Friday night, with Superintendent Tim Anderson confirming it was “highly unlikely” anyone survived the crushing force and weight. By Sunday, January 25, authorities named the victims publicly, and hopes were officially extinguished—no miracles would come from the debris.
Hannah Furse’s tribute to her son, released through police and media, captured the nation’s collective heartbreak. “My love for Max is impossible to explain, no words are big enough to describe this love or loss,” she wrote. “From the moment I first looked at his beautiful blue eyes almost 16 years ago he had my whole heart, he was my sunshine.” She described him as an “incredible, kind and beautiful human being,” a devoted big brother, a talented basketball player who had won junior player of the year honors, and a joyful teen whose light touched everyone. Max would have turned 16 this week—a milestone birthday the family had eagerly anticipated. Instead, they face a future forever altered.
The mother’s final text to Max—“LOVE YOU 100%, MAX…”—surfaced in family statements and quickly spread across social media, striking a raw nerve. What was once a casual sign-off now feels prophetic, a last expression of unconditional love sent just before the mountain came down. In the flood of tributes, vigils, and online fundraisers (one for Max’s family has raised over $17,000), this detail has become the emotional centerpiece: a reminder that goodbyes can arrive without fanfare, hidden in the mundane.
Why is this story exploding across social media right now? The combination is devastatingly potent. First, the sheer suddenness of the tragedy—six lives erased in an instant during what should have been carefree summer holidays—evokes universal terror. Mount Maunganui, a beloved Māori sacred site and one of New Zealand’s most iconic beaches, draws families year after year; the idea that a popular campground could turn deadly overnight has rattled even those far from the scene.
Second, the victims’ profiles amplify the pain: two bright 15-year-olds in the prime of youth, a dedicated educator, elderly friends on their annual pilgrimage, and a young international traveler. Max and Sharon’s story, in particular—a young couple enjoying a holiday together—adds a layer of innocent romance shattered too soon. Hannah Furse’s eloquent, loving words cut through the numbness, humanizing the statistics and turning abstract loss into something deeply personal.
Social platforms have lit up with shares, candlelight vigils streamed live (including one attended by Prime Minister Christopher Luxon), and viral posts urging people to “hug your babies” because “life can change in a moment.” The mother’s message has been quoted endlessly, paired with photos of Max smiling, playing sports, or with family, creating an emotional loop that keeps the story circulating. Hashtags like #MtMaunganui, #MaxFurseKee, and tributes to the victims trend regionally and globally, amplified by international outlets covering the disaster.
Compounding the viral momentum are broader questions the tragedy has unleashed: Why was the campground built in a known landslide-prone area? Repeated slips in recent years had raised alarms, yet warnings went unheeded. Tauranga City Council has launched an independent review, and WorkSafe is investigating duty-of-care failures. Climate change-fueled extreme weather—saturated soils from record rains—has fueled calls for better hazard mapping and restrictions on development in vulnerable zones.
Amid the grief, Hannah Furse’s words stand as a quiet beacon of love amid horror. “LOVE YOU 100%, MAX…” wasn’t meant to be a farewell, but fate made it one. In an age where every moment can be documented and shared, this simple text has become a viral symbol of fragility: cherish the ordinary messages, because sometimes they carry the weight of forever.
As recovery crews battle unstable ground and more rain threatens, the Mount Maunganui community mourns, flowers pile at cordons, and online strangers send support across oceans. A mother’s love, captured in six words, reminds the world how quickly paradise can become tragedy—and how deeply we feel it when it does.
