8
Most of the bodies
were recovered, but not all. It was
deemed unsafe, and that branch of the tunnel was closed off. Although the tunnels continued to mystify us,
and some truly amazing (and occasionally horrible) things were discovered down
there, a way out was not one of them.
Jim Kurrash was in
the first group of bodies that were brought up.
Mary Estill was beside herself in grief.
Ginny and Lisa held onto her as she shook.
Sue Boschman held
firm to the belief that Tom Bodell, the man (and if any of us in our group was
a man, in all the best senses of the word, it was Tom) she had recently
joyfully agreed to marry, would emerge soon from the wreckage. If anyone knew the right place to be in an
explosion, how to protect himself and others, it had to be Tom.
Hours later, the
last body to be removed from the tunnel wreckage was Tom. David Yankovich and twelve others were never
found. We presumed them dead, and
nothing that has happened since shows otherwise. Had David lived, Sue might have killed him,
as she fully blamed him for whatever tragedy occurred. She had talked to Tom enough to know that he
remained convinced that explosives would be too dangerous to use down there,
and that it was David who kept insisting that they use them.
There was a mass
funeral held in the gym the next day. It
was a very grim affair. My Dad and the
other administrators looked very haggard and defeated. It was hard to hold up a strong front in the
midst of such gruesome tragedy.
With this many
deaths, it touched virtually every one of us.
Everyone knew well at least one or two of those that were killed or
missing. The entire Trap was flooded in
a rain of tears and grief.
Individual
funerals were held in smaller groups over the next few days. We held one for Jim and Tom, a joint funeral
that Artie did his best to turn into a celebration and remembrance of their
lives. Tom I had known since I was a freshman
and Jim since 7th Grade. I had started
virtually every school morning with them, talked to one or both of them every
day. Tom was a mechanical genius, but who never seemed to talk over our
heads. He could explain things in a way
that almost made me understand, and I was the complete opposite on the
mechanical spectrum to him. Jim, our
football player buddy, was the very epitome of the strong, silent
type, and was the kindest, gentlest
person I ever had the privilege of knowing.
Jim and Tom were
great friends who would be sorely missed.
Their contributions to all of us stuck here would be sorely missed as
well. No one had the mechanical
expertise of Tom, and there would be many times over the next nine plus years
that we could have so used that. And I cannot
underestimate the importance of Jim's gentle strength, which would have been
such a helpful and calming guidance in all the troubles to come.
Mary Estill
continued to cry at the funeral, and frequently for days after. Except for that first day, Sue never cried
again. She was incredibly stiff most of
the time, as if she could uncoil and spring at someone at any moment. Her eyes were glazed over, filled with a
brimming anger. She refused all efforts
to comfort her. We tried everything we
could to reach out to her, but nothing worked.
I keep thinking we should have tried harder, and maybe things would have
turned out different for her.
The bodies were
buried in the back of the property, close to where I-375 should be. However, we no longer could see the freeway. Just thick, dark woods that lay just beyond
the trap barrier. For a couple of years, we though if we could just walk
through those woods, we could find the freeway just beyond them and be rescued. We were wrong about that.
Our makeshift
cemetery was growing bigger than we dreamed it could. Thirty-three graves were added to the fifteen
already there, plus another marker for all those missing but not found, listing
all their names. Over time, more markers would have multiple names. It got to be the only way to fit everybody
in.
No comments:
Post a Comment