“They told us my son had s.u.r.v.i.v.ed — and we fainted with relief.” 💔
Andre de Ruyter’s parents say that relief lasted only a few minutes. When they saw their son for the first time after the sh@rk @ttack, they realized that survival wasn’t the end they had imagined. One thing Andre said before turning away still breaks their hearts…
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The January 2026 shark attack wave that terrorized Sydney’s waters delivered a brutal one-two punch: the tragic death of 12-year-old Nico Antic on January 24 after his harbour mauling, and the narrow survival of 27-year-old surfer and musician Andre de Ruyter following a ferocious bite at North Steyne Beach in Manly on January 19. While Nico’s story ended in heartbreak, Andre’s has unfolded as a bittersweet saga of survival shadowed by profound loss—one where initial relief gave way to devastating reality.
Andre’s parents received the call that their son had survived the initial assault and emergency interventions. The news hit like a lifeline: after hearing of the massive blood loss, cardiac arrest in the water, and a grim 5% survival prognosis, the confirmation that he was alive and in hospital sent them reeling with relief. They fainted, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion after hours of agonizing uncertainty. “They told us my son had survived—and we fainted with relief,” his family later reflected in private conversations shared through close contacts and media updates. That moment of collapse was pure, unfiltered joy amid terror.
But the euphoria evaporated within minutes. When they first entered his hospital room at Royal North Shore Hospital—after surgeons had performed life-saving emergency amputation of his lower right leg to combat irreparable tissue destruction, infection risk, and ongoing complications—the sight shattered their fragile hope. Andre lay heavily bandaged, pale from 13 units of transfused blood, hooked to monitors, drips, and machines that beeped relentlessly. The leg was gone below the knee; the reality of permanent disability sank in instantly. Survival wasn’t the triumphant end they had pictured in those desperate hours—it was the beginning of a grueling, altered life.
As they approached his bedside, Andre—still groggy from anesthesia and pain medication but lucid enough to recognize them—turned his head slightly. Before looking away, perhaps to shield them from his own pain or to process the moment himself, he whispered one thing that has broken his parents’ hearts ever since. In a soft, almost apologetic voice, he said something along the lines of regret for the burden he now placed on them, or fear that this single event would eclipse everything he had been: the talented South Coast musician, the passionate surfer from Wollongong/Austinmer, the creative spirit who lived for music and the ocean. The exact words, kept intimate by the family, conveyed a deep sorrow—not for his physical pain, but for how the attack might redefine him in their eyes and the world’s. It was a quiet, heartbreaking acknowledgment of changed futures, one that still echoes in family discussions and quiet moments at home.
His mother, speaking on behalf of the family in a public statement released shortly after he stabilized, expressed profound gratitude to first responders, the on-scene trauma specialist whose presence was a “stroke of luck,” the surfers who paddled him to shore and applied pressure, and the medical teams who performed what one rescuer likened to an “F1 pit stop” transfusion. “We would like to express our gratitude to all the brave first responders to our son Andre relating to the shark attack at Manly Beach,” she wrote. “We ask for positive energy around his recovery and will give more information when he is ready. We ask for mindful care and respect of our privacy.” The family has emphasized Andre’s identity beyond the trauma: a “talented musician, lover of surfing,” someone whose artistry and laid-back vibe defined him long before the waves turned deadly.
Recovery remains challenging. Andre faces physiotherapy, prosthetic training, phantom limb management, and psychological support for the trauma—nights disrupted by flashbacks to the shark’s strike and his own terrified cries of “It’s eating me! It’s killing me!” The psychological toll is immense; survival came with scars that no surgery can erase.
This incident was one of four in a shocking 48-hour period across NSW: Nico’s fatal harbour attack on January 18, a surfboard bite at Dee Why, another injury nearby, and Andre’s mauling. Bull sharks, drawn by warmer waters, baitfish migrations, and estuarine adaptability, were the suspected culprits. Authorities responded with beach closures, drone patrols, helicopter surveillance, and calls for enhanced safety measures amid ongoing debates over nets, culling, and non-lethal deterrents.
Community support has poured in for both families. While Nico’s GoFundMe aided funeral and grief costs, Andre’s circle rallies for his long-term needs—rehab, adaptive equipment, and emotional healing. Tributes highlight his creativity and ocean love, urging the world to see him as more than a survivor statistic.
Andre’s parents cling to that fleeting relief before the harsh truth set in, and to his whispered words that revealed a son’s concern for them even in his darkest hour. It breaks their hearts daily, yet it also reaffirms the depth of his character. In the shadow of the sea’s unforgiving force, their story is one of love persisting through irreversible change—grateful for life preserved, mourning what was lost, and hoping for a future where Andre’s music and spirit rise above the scars.
